"You must forgive me if I seem a little unmoved," he observed, "but we hear so many of these vague stories. The matter shall be looked into, Mr. Cresswell, but I may as well warn you at once that Mrs. Abrahams has several friends in the Cabinet, and they are not likely to countenance any proceedings unfavourable to her."
The poet rose from his chair.
"Thank you, Sir Lionel," he said humbly. "I begin to realise——"
"What?"
"That a friend of a Cabinet Minister in this Government can do no wrong," the young man declared, picking up his hat.
Aaron Rodd and the poet lunched together the next day at the Milan. Miss Pamela Keane saw them from the other end of the room, where she was talking to the maître d'hôtel about a table, and at once came over towards them.
"Well?" she asked Aaron Rodd.
"I have some information already," the latter replied. "I am not in a position to make a definite report, but if it interests you to know it, I do not think that Mr. Lovejoy's afternoon philanderings are of an amorous nature."
"Say, do you hear that!" she exclaimed, her face suddenly lightening. "If it interests me to know it! Isn't that exactly what I came to you for? Well, can't you give me an idea what he is up to, then?"
"Not at present," Aaron Rodd regretted, "but you might, if you would, help me with another hint."