“Oh, the room’s all right,” said he.  Then he looked away absently and murmured as if to himself, “It isn’t the room.”

“Then what is it?” I persisted.

He turned with a dreary sort of smile.  “It’s the born butterfly being condemned to do the work of the busy bee.”

A short while afterwards we saw them drive off and watched the car disappear round the bend of the drive.

“Well, my dear,” said I, “thank goodness I’m not a man of genius.”

“Amen!” said Barbara, fervently.

As soon as they had settled down in their flat, Adrian began to work again, in the same unremitting fashion.  The only concession he made to consideration of health was to go to bed immediately on his return from dinner-parties and theatres instead of spending three or four hours in his study.  Otherwise the routine of toil went on as before.  One afternoon, happening to be in town and in the neighbourhood of St. John’s Wood, I called at the flat with the idea of asking Doria for a cup of tea.  I also had in my pocket a letter from Jaffery which I thought might interest Adrian.  The maid who opened the door informed me that her mistress was out.  Was Mr. Boldero in?  Yes; but he was working.

“That doesn’t matter,” said I.  “Tell him I’m here.”

The maid did not dare disturb him.  Her orders were absolute.  She could not refuse to admit me, seeing that I was already in the hall; but she stoutly refused to announce me.  I argued with the damsel.

“I may have business of the utmost importance with your master.”

She couldn’t help it.  She had her orders.

“But, my good Ellen,” said I—­the minx had actually been in our service a couple of years before!—­“suppose the place were on fire, what would you do?”

She looked at me demurely.  “I think I should call a policeman, sir.”

“You can call one now,” said I, “for I’m going to announce myself.  Don’t tell me I’ll have to walk over your dead body first, for it won’t do.”

I know it is not looked upon as a friendly act to interrupt a man in his work and to disregard the orders given to his servants, but I was irritated by all this Grand Llama atmosphere of mysterious seclusion.  Besides, I had been walking and felt just a little hot and dusty and thirsty, and I felt all the hotter, dustier and thirstier for my argument with Ellen.

“I’ll announce myself,” I said, and marched to the door of Adrian’s study.  It was locked.  I rapped at the door.

“Who’s there?” came Adrian’s voice.

“Me.  Hilary.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I happen to be a guest under your roof,” said I, with a touch of temper.

“Wait a minute,” said he.

I waited about two.  Then the door was unlocked and opened and I strode in upon Adrian who looked rather pale and dishevelled.

“Why the deuce,” said I, “did you keep me hanging about like that?”