"Quite agree," replied Don, fumbling for matches in the pocket of his trench-coat, "as the Aunt would say. Our own pipe never tastes so sweet as the other fellow's smells. There is Chauvin over there and I want to speak to him. Perhaps he fails to recognise me in uniform. Ah! he has seen me." He waved his hand to a fresh-coloured, middle-aged man seated with a lady dressed in green, whose cerise hair lent her an interesting likeness to a human geranium. Chauvin rose, having obtained the lady's permission, bowed to her, and coming across to the table, shook Don warmly by the hand.
"Paul," said Don, "This is Claude Chauvin. You have one of his pictures in your dining-room. Paul Mario—Mr. Jules Thessaly. Chauvin, I know you require another assistant in your studio. You cannot possibly turn out so much black and white stuff for the sporting journals and all those etchings as well as your big pictures."
"It is hopeless to expect to find anyone to help me," replied Chauvin. "Nobody understands animals nowadays. I would pay a good assistant any amount as well as putting him in the way of doing well for himself later on."
"I am bringing a girl around to you in the morning who knows nearly as much about animals as you know yourself."
"A girl."
"A girl—yes; a female Briton Rivière."
Chauvin's rather tired-looking eyes lighted up with professional interest and he bent lower over the table upon which he was resting his hands. "Really! Who is she?"
"Flamby Duveen. I would never trust her to anybody's care but yours, Chauvin. She is the daughter of a man who saved my life and she is a born artist as well. She starts at Guilder's on Monday. Her style wants broadening of course. But look at this."
Don dived into the capacious pocket of his trench-coat and brought forth a large envelope marked "On His Majesty's Service. Strictly Confidential." From the envelope he took a water-colour drawing representing a pair of long-legged ungainly colts standing snuggled up to their mother under a wild briar hedge. He handed the drawing to Chauvin, and Chauvin, adjusting a pair of huge horn-rimmed spectacles upon his nose, examined it critically. All three watched him in silence. Presently he removed the spectacles and laid the drawing down on the table. He held out his hand to Don.
"Bring her along early," he said. "Good night." He returned to the human geranium.