I knew the moment I opened the door that changes were on foot. Our studio sitting-room was dismantled of many of its treasures. Allan, with his coat off and a pipe in his mouth, was throwing odds and ends in a promiscuous sort of way into a huge trunk which stood open upon the floor. Arthur, a few yards off, was rolling a cigarette.
Our meeting was not wholly free from embarrassment. I think that for the first time in our lives there was a cloud between Allan and myself. He stood up and faced me squarely.
"Arnold," he said, "where is Isobel?"
"In Illghera with her grandfather," I answered. "Where else should she be?"
"Are you sure?"
"I have seen her there with my own eyes," I affirmed.
There was a moment's pause. I saw the two exchange glances. Then Allan held out his hand.
"That da
