“I was just telling Mrs. Pett,” he said, “that I shouldn’t be surprised if you were to get an offer for your stuff from our fellows at home before long.  I saw a lot of our War Office men when I was in England, don’t you know.  Several of them mentioned the stuff.”

Willie resented Partridgite as being referred to as “the stuff,” but he made allowance.  All Englishmen talked that way, he supposed.

“Indeed?” he said.

“Of course,” said Mrs. Pett, “Willie is a patriot and would have to give our own authorities the first chance.”

“Rather!”

“But you know what officials are all over the world.  They are so sceptical and they move so slowly.”

“I know.  Our men at home are just the same as a rule.  I’ve got a pal who invented something-or-other, I forget what, but it was a most decent little contrivance and very useful and all that; and he simply can’t get them to say Yes or No about it.  But, all the same, I wonder you didn’t have some of them trying to put out feelers to you when you were in London.”

“Oh, we were only in London a few hours.  By the way, Lord Wisbeach, my sister—­“—­Mrs. Pett paused; she disliked to have to mention her sister or to refer to this subject at all, but curiosity impelled her—­“my sister said that you are a great friend of her step-son, James Crocker.  I didn’t know that you knew him.”

Lord Wisbeach seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“He’s not coming over, is he?  Pity!  It would have done him a world of good.  Yes, Jimmy Crocker and I have always been great pals.  He’s a bit of a nut, of course, . . .  I beg your pardon! . . .  I mean . . .”  He broke off confusedly, and turned to Willie again to cover himself.  “How are you getting on with the jolly old stuff?” he asked.

If Willie had objected to Partridgite being called “the stuff,” he was still less in favour of its being termed “the jolly old stuff.”  He replied coldly.

“I have ceased to get along with the jolly old stuff.”

“Struck a snag?” enquired Lord Wisbeach sympathetically.

“On the contrary, my experiments have been entirely successful.  I have enough Partridgite in my laboratory to blow New York to bits!”

“Willie!” exclaimed Mrs. Pett.  “Why didn’t you tell me before?  You know I am so interested.”

“I only completed my work last night.”

He moved off with an important nod.  He was tired of Lord Wisbeach’s society.  There was something about the young man which he did not like.  He went to find more congenial company in a group by the window.

Lord Wisbeach turned to his hostess.  The vacuous expression had dropped from his face like a mask.  A pair of keen and intelligent eyes met Mrs. Pett’s.

“Mrs. Pett, may I speak to you seriously?”

Mrs. Pett’s surprise at the alteration in the man prevented her from replying.  Much as she liked Lord Wisbeach, she had never given him credit for brains, and it was a man with brains and keen ones who was looking at her now.  She nodded.