Sissie shook her head.

“Don’t make so sure that they can have this house,” said Mr. Prohack.

“But, Arthur!  You’ve agreed to go and look at Manchester Square!  And it’s all ready excepting the servants.  I’m told that if you don’t want less than seven servants, including one or two menservants, there’s no difficulty about servants at all.  I shall be very disappointed if we don’t have the wedding from Manchester Square.”

Mr. Prohack writhed, though he knew himself safe.  Seven servants; two menservants?  No!  And again no!  No complications!

“I shall only agree to Manchester Square,” said he with firmness and solemnity, “subject to the drains being all right.  Somebody in the place must show a little elementary sagacity and restraint.”

“But the drains are bound to be all right!”

“I hope so,” said the deceitful father.  “And I believe they will be.  But until we’re sure—­nothing can be done.”  And he laughed satanically to himself.

“Haven’t you had the report yet?” Sissie complained.  “Miss Warburton was to try to get hold of it to-night.”

A moment later Machin, in a condition of high excitement due to the betrothal, brought in a large envelope, saying that Miss Warburton had just left it.  The envelope contained the report of Messrs. Doy and Doy on the drains of the noble mansion.  Mr. Prohack read it, frowned, and pursed his judicial lips.

“Read it, my dear,” he said to Eve.

Eve read that Messrs. Doy and Doy found themselves unable, after a preliminary inspection, which owing to their instructions to be speedy had not been absolutely exhaustive, to certify the drains of the noble mansion.  They feared the worst, but there was of course always a slight hope of the best, or rather the second best. (They phrased it differently but they meant that.) In the meantime they would await further instructions.  Mr. Prohack reflected calmly:  “My new secretary is an adept of the first conspiratorial order.”  Eve was shocked into silence. (Doy and Doy used very thick and convincing note-paper.) The entrance of Charlie loosed her tongue.

“Charlie!” she cried.  “The drains are all wrong.  Look at this.  And didn’t you say the option expired to-morrow?”

Charlie read the report.

“Infernal rascals!” he muttered.  “Whose doing is this?  Who’s been worrying about drains?” He looked round accusingly.

“I have,” said Mr. Prohack bravely, but he could not squarely meet the boy’s stern glance.

“Well, dad, what did you take me for?  Did you suppose I should buy an option on a house without being sure of the drains?  My first act was to have the drains surveyed by Flockers, the first firm in London, and I’ve got their certificate.  As for Doy and Doy, they’re notorious.  They want to stop everybody else but themselves getting a commission on that house, and this—­” he slapped the report—­“this is how they’re setting about it.”