we must get seats in the luncheon car. So you be ready."
Madrasia pointed a slim finger at me.
"You've never asked him!" she exclaimed.
"That's all right," replied Parslewe, calmly. "He's going too. We're all going. You go and pack your duds." He turned to me as she went out of the room and his smile was sweeter than ever. "You may as well see it through, Craye," he said. "I think we'll have about settled things up by noon to-morrow. And I'll show you something that'll appeal to your artistic eye. Eh?"
"In for a penny, in for a pound, Mr. Parslewe," I replied. "I'm game!—but hanged if I know what it's all about!"
"I'm not so certain that I know that myself, my lad!" he answered. "But I think we're getting near it. Well, be ready!"
He went off then, and I saw him no more until we all met to walk across to the express. There was considerable satisfaction in travelling with Parslewe, for he reduced the whole thing to the perfection of comfort. He had already booked three places and a table in the first-class dining-car, armed himself with
