“It was Lucille’s idea,” explained Archie.  He was about to mention his brother-in-law’s connection with the matter, but checked himself in time, remembering Bill’s specific objection to having his secret revealed to Reggie.  “It’s like this, old thing, I’ve never met this female, but she’s a pal of Lucille’s"-he comforted his conscience by the reflection that, if she wasn’t now, she would be in a few days-“and Lucille wants to do her a bit of good.  She’s been on the stage in England, you know, supporting a jolly old widowed mother and educating a little brother and all that kind and species of rot, you understand, and now she’s coming over to America, and Lucille wants you to rally round and shove her into your show and generally keep the home fires burning and so forth.  How do we go?”

Reggie beamed with relief.  He felt just as he had felt on that other occasion at the moment when a taxi-cab had rolled up and enabled him to hide his spatless leg from the public gaze.

“Oh, I see!” he said.  “Why, delighted, old man, quite delighted!”

“Any small part would do.  Isn’t there a maid or something in your bob’s-worth of refined entertainment who drifts about saying, ’Yes, madam,’ and all that sort of thing?  Well, then that’s just the thing.  Topping!  I knew I could rely on you, old bird.  I’ll get Lucille to ship her round to your address when she arrives.  I fancy she’s due to totter in somewhere in the next few days.  Well, I must be popping.  Toodle-oo!”

“Pip-pip!” said Reggie.

It was about a week later that Lucille came into the suite at the Hotel Cosmopolis that was her home, and found Archie lying on the couch, smoking a refreshing pipe after the labours of the day.  It seemed to Archie that his wife was not in her usual cheerful frame of mind.  He kissed her, and, having relieved her of her parasol, endeavoured without success to balance it on his chin.  Having picked it up from the floor and placed it on the table, he became aware that Lucille was looking at him in a despondent sort of way.  Her grey eyes were clouded.

“Halloa, old thing,” said Archie.  “What’s up?”

Lucille sighed wearily.

“Archie, darling, do you know any really good swear-words?”

“Well,” said Archie, reflectively, “let me see.  I did pick up a few tolerably ripe and breezy expressions out in France.  All through my military career there was something about me—­some subtle magnetism, don’t you know, and that sort of thing—­that seemed to make colonels and blighters of that order rather inventive.  I sort of inspired them, don’t you know.  I remember one brass-hat addressing me for quite ten minutes, saying something new all the time.  And even then he seemed to think he had only touched the fringe of the subject.  As a matter of fact, he said straight out in the most frank and confiding way that mere words couldn’t do justice to me.  But why?”

“Because I want to relieve my feelings.”