“By Jove, you shall wear this very suit!” cried Medcroft, inspired.  “We’re of a size, and it won’t fit you any better than it does me.  Our clothes never fit us in London.  Clever idea of yours, Brock, to think of it.  And, here!  We’ll stop at this shop and pick up a glass.  You can have all day for practice with it.  And, I say, Brock, don’t you think you can cultivate a—­er—­little more of an English style of speech?  That twang of yours won’t—­”

“Heavens, man, I’m to be a low comedian, too,” gasped Brock, as he was fairly pushed onto the shop.  Three minutes later they were on the sidewalk, and Brock was in possession of an object he had scorned most of all things in the world,—­a monocle.

Arm in arm, they sauntered into the Ritz.  Medcroft retained his clasp on his friend’s elbow as they went up in the lift, after the fashion of one who fears that his victim is contemplating flight.  As they entered the comfortable little sitting-room of the suite, a young woman rose gracefully from the desk at which she had been writing.  With perfect composure she smiled and extended her slim hand to the American as he crossed the room with Medcroft’s jerky introduction dinging in his ears.

“My old friend Brock, dear.  He has consented to be your husband.  You’ve never met your wife, have you, old man?” A blush spread over her exquisite face.

“Oh, Roxbury, how embarrassing!  He hasn’t even proposed to me.  So glad to meet you, Mr. Brock.  I’ve been trying to picture what you would look like, ever since Roxbury went out to find you.  Sit here, please, near me.  Roxbury, has Mr. Brock really fallen into your terrible trap?  Isn’t it the most ridiculous proceeding, Mr. Brock—­”

“Call him Roxbury, my dear.  He’s fully prepared for it.  And now let’s get down to business.  He insists upon talking it over with you.  You don’t mind me being present, do you, Brock?  I daresay I can help you out a bit.  I’ve been married four years.”

For an hour the trio discussed the situation from all sides and in all its phases.  When Brock arose to take his departure, he was irrevocably committed to the enterprise; he was, moreover, completely enchanted by the vista of harmless fun and sweet adventure that stretched before him.  He went away with his head full of the brilliant, quick-witted, loyal young American who was entering so heartily into the plot to deceive her own friends for the time being in order that her husband might profit in high places.

“She is ripping,” he said to Medcroft in the hallway.  All of the plans had been made and all of them had been approved by the young wife.  She had shown wonderful perspicacity and foresight in the matter of details; her capacity for selection and disposal was even more comprehensive than that of the two men, both of whom were somewhat staggered by the boldness of more than one suggestion which came from her fruitful storehouse of romantic ideas.