INTRODUCING A LADY.
It was Cranbourne, who at the door of the flat thought of a final precaution, excused himself to his companions and asked leave to enter the bathroom. Richard was standing on a cork mat, rubbing himself with a Turkish towel and, after the fashion of all good men, singing lustily in time with the exercise. He favoured Cranbourne with a grin as he materialized through the wreaths of steam.
"Hello, back again!"
Cranbourne nodded and cast an appreciative eye over the well articulated muscles of the stripped figure before him.
"Just one thing," he said, "if you don't mind."
"Fire away."
Cranbourne produced a notebook and a pencil.
"Scribble your signature on this bit of paper."
"I see. My writing. Here you are."
Richard took the pencil and book and sitting on the edge of the bath—and without thinking—dashed off his own signature. When he had finished he handed it to Cranbourne who shook his head sadly over the result.