“I don’t want another one,” said Eve.  “I’d sooner be without one.  I know it was all my own fault.  But you’re horrid, and I can’t make you out, and I never could make you out.  I never did know where I am with you.  And I believe you’re hiding something from me.  I believe you picked up the necklace, and that’s why you sent the detective away.”

Mr. Prohack had to assume his serious voice which always carried conviction to Eve, and which he had never misused.  “I haven’t picked your necklace up.  I haven’t seen it.  And I know nothing about it.”  Then he changed again.  “And if you’ll kindly step forward and kiss me good morning I’ll try to snatch a few moments’ unconsciousness.”

IV

Mr. Prohack’s life at this wonderful period of his career as a practising philosopher at grips with the great world seemed to be a series of violent awakenings.  He was awakened, with even increased violence, at about eight o’clock the next—­or rather the same—­morning, and he would have been awakened earlier if the servants had got up earlier.  The characteristic desire of the servants to rise early had, however, been enfeebled by the jolly vigils of the previous night.  It was, of course, Eve who rushed in to him—­nobody else would have dared.  She had hastily cast about her plumpness the transformed Chinese gown, which had the curious appearance of a survival from some former incarnation.

“Arthur!” she called, and positively shook the victim.  “Arthur!”

Mr. Prohack looked at her, dazed by the electric light which she had ruthlessly turned on over his head.

“There’s a woman been caught in the area.  She’s a fat woman, and she must have been there all night.  The cook locked the area gate and the woman was too fat to climb over.  Brool’s put her in the servants’ hall and fastened the door, and what do you think we ought to do first?  Send for the police or telephone to Mr. Crewd—­he’s the detective you saw last night?”

“If she’s been in the area all night you’d better put her to bed, and give her some hot brandy and water,” said Mr. Prohack.

“Arthur, please, please, be serious!” Eve supplicated.

“I’m being as serious as a man can who has been disturbed in this pleasant fashion by a pretty woman,” said Mr. Prohack attentively examining the ceiling.  “You go and look after the fat lady.  Supposing she died from exposure.  There’d have to be an inquest.  Do you wish to be mixed up in an inquest?  What does she want?  Whatever it is, give it her, and let her go, and wake me up next week.  I feel I can sleep a bit.”

“Arthur!  You’ll drive me mad.  Can’t you see that she must be connected with the necklace business.  She must be.  It’s as clear as day-light!”

“Ah!” breathed Mr. Prohack, thoughtfully interested.  “I’d forgotten the necklace business.”

“Yes, well, I hadn’t!” said Eve, rather shrewishly.  “I had not.”