"Your business?"
Lutchester assented with perfect gravity.
"Within a day or two," he said, "now, if you made a point of it, I could explain a great deal."
Pamela threw herself into a chair almost irritably.
"You have the cult of being mysterious, Mr. Lutchester," she declared. "To be quite frank with you, you seem to be the queerest mixture of any man I ever knew."
"It is the fault of circumstances," he regretted, "if I am sometimes compelled to present myself to you in an unfavourable light. Those circumstances are passing. You will soon begin to value me at my true worth."
"We had half promised," Pamela murmured, "to go out with Mr. Fischer this evening."
"The more reason for my intervention," Lutchester observed. "Fischer is not a fit person for you to associate with."
She laughed curiously.
"People who saw you at the roof-garden last night might say that you were scarcely a judge," Pamela retorted.