‘I need help,’ he whispered.  ’There is a conspiracy to praise the man.  You heard Conway at dinner.  It’s the same with every one, from Mr. Le Mesurier to Fielding.’

‘Oh,’ she said, her voice kindling to an expression of interest, ’does Mr. Fielding like him?  He is fastidious too.’  She paused for a second in deliberation, her eyes searching the floor.  Raising them, she perceived Mr. Le Mesurier coming towards her.

‘I claim our privilege,’ she said.  ’I will lunch on Sunday, and meet your paragon, after all.’

‘I am very glad,’ he said impressively.  ‘Lunch at two.’

Mrs. Willoughby waited until he was out of ear-shot, and turned again to Mallinson.

’It is best that I should see the man, and know something more of him than hearsay.  Don’t you think so?’

A note of apology discounted the explanation.  Mallinson understood that the reference to Fielding was the cause of her change of mind.

‘Do you value Fielding’s opinion?’ he asked.

‘Oh, I don’t know.  On some subjects I think yes.  Don’t you?’

Mallinson began to wonder immediately whether Fielding’s opinions might not be valuable after all, since Mrs. Willoughby valued them.  If so, the man might be able to throw some light upon other points—­for instance, the perplexing question of Miss Le Mesurier’s inclinations.  Mallinson made up his mind to call upon Fielding.  He called on the Sunday morning, and Fielding blandly related to him his history of Sark.

Having worked Mallinson to a sufficiently amusing pitch of indignation, and having hinted his moral that the subjugation of Miss Le Mesurier would be effected only by the raider, Fielding complacently dismissed him and repaired to Beaufort Gardens for lunch.  He found Drake upon the doorstep with a hand upon the knocker, and the two gentlemen exchanged greetings.

‘I have just left Mallinson,’ said Fielding.

Drake’s hand fell from the knocker.

‘Tell me!’ he said.  ’Mallinson perplexes me in many ways.  For instance, he shows me little good-will now—­’

‘Does that surprise you?’ Fielding interjected, with a laugh.

Drake coloured and replied quickly, ’You didn’t let me finish.  If he dislikes me, what made him talk about me as his friend to—­to the Le Mesuriers before I returned to England?’

’Your name in print.  You verged on—­well, notoriety.  You may laugh, but that’s the reason.  Mallinson’s always on the rack of other people’s opinions—­judges himself by what he imagines to be their standard of him.  Acquaintanceship with a celebrity lifts him in their eyes, he thinks, so really in his own.’

Drake remained doubtfully pondering what credit acquaintanceship with him could confer on any one.  He was led back to his old view of Mallinson as a man tottering on a rickety base.

‘Will he do something great?’ he asked, his forehead puckered in an effort to calculate the qualities which make for greatness.