Mrs Bosenna, seated at the head of her polished mahogany table and engaged upon a game of “spillikins”—­which is a solitary trial of skill, and consists in lifting, one by one, with a delicate ivory hook a mass of small ivory pieces tangled as intricately as the bones in a kingfisher’s nest—­showed no more than a pretty surprise at the intrusion.  She had, in fact, seen Captain Hocken pass the window some moments before; and it had not caused her to joggle the tiny ivory hook for a moment or to miss a moment’s precision.  What native quickness did for her, native stolidity did almost as well for Captain Hunken, who sat in an arm-chair by the fireplace smoking and watching her—­and had been sitting and watching her for a good half an hour admiringly, without converse.  “Spillikins” is a game during which, though it enjoins silence on the looker-on, a real expert can playfully challenge a remark or tolerate one, now and again.  Also, you can make astonishing play with it if you happen to possess a pretty wrist and hand.

I throw in this explanation of “spillikins” to fill up a somewhat long and painful pause during which Cai and ’Bias without speech slowly questioned one another.  Neither heeded the pretty tactful clatter with which Mrs Bosenna, after sweeping her ivory toys in a heap and starting up with a little cry of pleasure, held out her hand to the intruder.  Cai took it as one in a dream.  His eyes were fixed on ’Bias, as ’Bias, who had withdrawn the pipe from his mouth and replaced it, withdrew it again, and asked—­

“Well, an’ what brings you here?”

For a moment Cai seemed to be chewing down a cud in his throat.  He ought to have been quicker, he felt.  It is always a mistake to let your adversary (Good Lord! had it come to this?) set up an interrogatory.

“I might ask you the same question,” he responded.

“But you didn’,” said ’Bias solidly, crossing his legs and reaching for a box of matches from the shelf to relight his pipe.  “Well?”

“Well, if you must know, I’ve called to consult Mrs Bosenna on a private matter of business.”

This was a neat enough hint; yet strange to say it missed fire.  ’Bias sucked at his pipe without budging, and answered—­

“Same here.”

“Please be seated, Captain Hocken,” said Mrs Bosenna, covering inward merriment with the demurest of smiles.  “You shall tell me your business later on—­that’s to say, if there’s no pressing hurry about it?”

“There’s no pressin hurry,” admitted Cai.  “It’s important, though, in a way—­important to me; and any ways more important than smokin’ a pipe an’ watchin’ you play parlour games.”

“That,” said ’Bias sententiously, withdrawing his pipe from his lips, “isn’ business, but pleasure.”

“You may not believe it, Captain Hocken,” protested Mrs Bosenna, “but ‘spillikins’ helps me to fix my thoughts.  And you ought to feel flattered, really you ought—­”