issued.  Their possession of all but two of the family portraits was undoubted, and with nine points of the law in their favour they were well armed.  It was an open question whether the tenth point, which was ours, was sufficiently doughty to lay the other nine by the heels.  Years ago counsel had advised that the law was dead in our favour, but it was certain that Vandy and his sisters would resist any claim we made with great bitterness, and the settlement of a family quarrel in the public ring of the High Court was more than we could stomach.

Still, the pictures were worth seeing.  There were a Holbein, a Van Dyck, three Gainsboroughs, and two from the brush of Reynolds among them, and, so soon as she had learned of their existence, Adele had evinced an eagerness to be shown the collection.

There was a moment’s silence.  Then—­

“I’d hate to think you were going for my sake,” said Adele.

“We’re not, dear,” said Daphne.  “Even if you weren’t here, we should have to go some day soon.”

“Yes,” said Berry.  “We hate one another like poison, but we’ve never declared war.  Consequently, diplomatic relations are still maintained, and in due season we meet and are charmingly offensive to one another.  When war broke out they were very sticky about billeting a few Yeomanry chargers, and crawled and lied about their stabling till the authorities got fed up and commandeered all they’d got.  Therefore, whenever we meet, I chivvy the conversation in the direction of horseflesh.  In the same way, having regard to the burglary which we suffered last month, Vandy will spread himself on the subject of old silver.  The moment they heard of it, they sent us a triumphant telegram of condolence.”

My sister laughed.

“If you say much more,” she said, “Adele will be afraid to come with us.  I admit it’s a duty call, pure and simple.  All the same, there won’t be any bloodshed.”

“I’m ready for anything,” said Addle thoughtfully.  “Shall I wear a red or white rose?”

“Don’t tell us you can control your cheeks,” said I.  “It’s unheard of.  And why are you so pensive this morning?  Is it because of Ireland?  Or have you trodden on your sponge?”

“I believe she’s broken the soap-dish,” said Berry, “and is afraid to tell us.”

“Don’t tease her,” said Jill.  “Why shouldn’t she be quiet if she likes?”

But Adele was bubbling with laughter.

“The truth is,” she announced, “I’m trying to remember a dream I had last night.”  She looked across the table to me.  “You know what it is to dream something rather vivid and interesting, and then not to be able to remember what it was?”

I nodded.

“But you can’t do anything,” I said.  “It’s no good trying to remember it.  Either you’ll think of it, or you won’t.”