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you're worrying about."
    "What I had in mind was more the dialogue. We don't want her blowing up in her lines. Don't you think we ought to get a seasoned professional?"
    "That's just what Trixie is. Been playing Fairy Queens in panto for years. Never got a shop in London owing to jealousy in high places, but ask them in Leeds and Wigan what they think of her. Ask them in Hull. Ask them in Huddersfield."
    I said I would, always provided I happened to come across them,  and he carried on in a sort of ecstasy.
    " 'This buxom belle'— Leeds Evening Chronicle. 'A talented bit of all right'— Hull Daily News. 'Beauty and dignity combined'— Wigan Intelligencer. Don't you fret yourself, cocky, Trix'll give you your money's worth. And talking of that, how much does the part pay?"
    "I was thinking of a fiver."
    "Make it ten."
    "Right ho."
    "Or, rather, fifteen. That way you'll get every ounce of zest and co-operation."
    I was in no mood to haggle. Aunt Dahlia had rung up while I was breakfasting to tell me that Honoria Glossop had told her that she would be looking in on me at four o'clock, and it was imperative that the reception committee be on hand to greet her. I dished out the fifteen quid and asked how soon he could get hold of his niece, as time was of the essence. He said her services would be at my disposal well ahead of zero hour, and I said Fine.
    "Give me a ring when it's all set," I said. "I'll be lunching at the Drones Club."
    This seemed to interest him quite a bit.
    "Drones Club, eh? You a member there? I've got some good friends at the Drones Club. You know a Mr Widgeon?"
    "Freddie Widgeon? Yes, very well."
    "And Mr Prosser?"
    "Yes, I know Oofy Prosser."
    "Give them my best, if you see them. Nice lads, both. And now you can trot along and feed your face without a care in the world. I'll have contacted Trixie before you're half way through your fish and chips."
    And I was called to the phone while having the after-luncheon coffee in the smokingroom. It was, as I had anticipated, Jas Waterbury.
    "That you, cocky?"
    I said it was, and he said everything was under control. Trixie had been contacted and would be up and doing with a heart for any fate in good time for the rise of the curtain. What, he asked, was the address they were to come to, and I told him and he said they would be there at a quarter to four without fail. So that was all fixed, and I was full of kindly feelings towards Jas Waterbury as I made my way back to the smoking-room. He was a man whom I would have hesitated to invite to come with me on a long walking tour and I still felt that he would have been well advised to go easier on the grease as regarded both his hair and his person, but there was no getting away from it that if circumstances rendered it necessary for you to plot plots, he was the ideal fellow to plot them with.
    During my absence from the smokingroom Catsmeat Potter-Pirbright had taken the chair next to mine, and I lost no time in sounding him out on the subject of Jas Waterbury.
    "You remember you were telling me about theatrical agents, Catsmeat. Did you ever happen to come across one called Waterbury?"
    He pondered awhile.
    "The name seems vaguely familiar. What does he look like?"
    "Nothing on earth."
    "That doesn't place him. All theatrical agents look like nothing on earth. But it's odd that I seem to know the name. Waterbury? Waterbury? Ha! Is he a greasy bird?"
    "Very greasy."
    "And is his first name Jas?"
    "That's right."
    "Then I know the chap you mean. I never met him myself—I doubt if he was going at the time when I was hoofing it from agent to agent—but I've heard of him from Freddie Widgeon and Oofy Prosser."
    "Yes, he said they were friends of his."
    "He'd revise that view if he could listen to them talking about him. Oofy in particular. Jas Waterbury once chiselled him out of two thousand pounds." I was amazed.
    "He chiselled Oofy out of two thousand pounds?" I gasped, wondering if I could believe my e. Oofy is