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Despite his utmost efforts to prevent it, a faint smile flitted across the pallid features of Mr. Henshaw.

“Yes, you may laugh,” stormed his wife, “and I’ve no doubt them two beauties laughed too. I’ll take care you don’t have much more to laugh at, my man. ”

She flung out of the room and began to wash up the crockery. Mr. Henshaw, after standing irresolute for some time with his hands in his pockets, put on his hat again and left the house.

He dined badly at a small eating-house, and returned home at six o’clock that evening to find his wife out and the cupboard empty. He went back to the same restaurant for tea, and after a gloomy meal went round to discuss the situation with Ted Stokes. That gentleman’s suggestion of a double alibi he thrust aside with disdain and a stern appeal to talk sense.

“Mind, if my wife speaks to you about it,” he said, warningly, “it wasn’t me, but somebody like me. You might say he ‘ad been mistook for me before. ”

Mr. Stokes grinned and, meeting a freezing glance from his friend, at once became serious again.

“Why not say it was you?” he said stoutly. “There’s no harm in going for a ‘bus-ride with a friend and a couple o’ ladies. ”

“O’ course there ain’t,” said the other, hotly, “else I shouldn’t ha’ done it. But you know what my wife is. ”

Mr. Stokes, who was by no means a favorite of the lady in question, nodded. “Youwerea bit larky, too,” he said thoughtfully. “You ‘ad quite a little slapping game after you pretended to steal her brooch. ”

“I s’pose when a gentleman’s with a lady he ‘as got to make ‘imself pleasant?” said Mr. Henshaw, with dignity. “Now, if my missis speaks to you about it, you say that it wasn’t me, but a friend of yours up from the country who is as like me as two peas. See?”

“Name o’ Dodd,” said Mr. Stokes, with a knowing nod. “Tommy Dodd. ”

“I’m not playing the giddy goat,” said the other, bitterly, “and I’d thank you not to. ”

“All right,” said Mr. Stokes, somewhat taken aback. “Any name you like; I don’t mind. ”

Mr. Henshaw pondered. “Any sensible name’ll do,” he said, stiffly.

“Bell?” suggested Mr. Stokes. “Alfred Bell? I did know a man o’ that name once. He tried to borrow a bob off of me. ”

“That’ll do,” said his friend, after some consideration; “but mind you stick to the same name. And you’d better make up something about him— where he lives, and all that sort of thing—so that you can stand being questioned without looking more like a silly fool than you can help. ”

“I’ll do what I can for you,” said Mr. Stokes, “but I don’t s’pose your missis’ll come to me at all. She saw you plain enough. ”

They walked on in silence and, still deep in thought over the matter, turned into a neighboring tavern for refreshment. Mr. Henshaw drank his with the air of a man performing a duty to his constitution; but Mr. Stokes, smacking his lips, waxed eloquent over the brew.

“I hardly know what I’m drinking,” said his friend, forlornly. “I suppose it’s four-half, because that’s what I asked for. ”

Mr. Stokes gazed at him in deep sympathy. “It can’t be so bad as that,” he said, with concern.

“You wait till you’re married,” said Mr. Henshaw, brusquely. “You’d no business to ask me to go with you, and I was a good-natured fool to do it. ”

“You stick to your tale and it’ll be all right,” said the other. “Tell her that you spoke to me about it, and that his name is Alfred Bell—B E double L—and that he lives in—in Ireland. Here! I say!”