"No," said the girl. "I don't think anyone would do but Miss Staveley herself."

She was a pretty girl, somewhere in the last teens, but at the moment she was flushed and nervous and looked tired out.

"Do you know her personally?" asked the loyal and wary Jan.

"I could hardly say 'know,'" replied the girl, "but we met at a dinner-party once. At Lady Toulmin's. Perhaps you would tell her?"

"You are quite sure it is nothing that I could do?" Jan inquired.

"Quite," said the girl.

"But Miss Staveley is very busy," Jan persisted. "We haven't got through the letters yet. Indeed, we're not really open. You must let me know what you want to see her about."

"I'm sorry," said the girl, "but that's impossible. Do please give her this card"; and Jan succumbed.

Ben, in her fortress, examined the card. "Miss Viola Marquand," she read. "What is she like?" she asked.

"Very young," said Jan. "And very pretty. Says she met you at dinner once at Lady Toulmin's. Her furs cost a hundred if they cost a penny. One of those gold mesh bags. No rouge, though. She seems excited and worried."

"And she won't say what she wants?"

"No," said Jan. "Not to me. Not to underlings. The boss or nothing."

"Well," said Ben, "show her in; but keep an eye on the time. She oughtn't to be here more than ten minutes. Interrupt us then."

Miss Marquand entered shyly. "It's very kind of you to see me," she said, "and I have no right to bother you like this; but I'm in great trouble and I remembered how much I liked you the only time we met. Do you remember?"

"Yes," said Ben. "I remember now."

"And I was hearing that you had opened an advice bureau, and so I have made so bold as to come to you, because no one wants advice—help, rather—more than I do."

"Well," said Ben, "tell me."

"It's very simple," said the girl. "I have got to pay two hundred pounds and I haven't a penny."

"Bridge?" Ben asked.

"Poker," said the girl. "I can hold my own fairly well at bridge, but poker is too much for me. I've done with it. Can you tell me what to do? I'm at my wits' end, Miss Staveley. It's terrible."

"You poor thing," said Ben. "But, you know, this isn't my line at all. I'm here for ordinary cases, such as finding houses and chauffeurs and all that kind of thing. This isn't my line at all. Have you no one at home to confide in?"

"Oh, no," said the girl quickly. "No one. That would be impossible."

"Your father?"

"My father!" the girl exclaimed, with dilating eyes. Then she laughed. "You don't know my father."

"But surely you must have friends?"

"I don't seem to have any friends quite of that sort," said the girl. "There are plenty of people I know, but some I wouldn't ask a favour of for the world, and the others either wouldn't have any money or wouldn't lend it. I've been going over their names again and again and they all seem wrong."

"Isn't there the family lawyer?" Ben asked. "He wouldn't give you away, even if he wasn't too sympathetic. And it's part of his business to raise money."

"The family lawyer!" the girl exclaimed, almost angrily. "You don't suppose I should bother you if I could go to him? Oh, forgive me if I sounded sharp," she said. "But I'm all out. I never slept a wink last night. But of course I couldn't go to him—he and father are much too thick. And if father knew of this, I don't know what would happen. You see it happened once before. Not so badly, but badly enough."

"Ah!" said Ben. "And you gave a promise?"

"Yes," the girl admitted. "And I meant to keep it. But this time I swear I will. What I want you to do," she went on, "is to be so kind as to tell me how money is raised. Couldn't I borrow it?"

"I'm sure you could," said Ben. "But the rate of interest would be very high, and how about paying it back?"

"Yes," said the girl, ruefully. "That's just it. I thought of that."

"And you'd have to give some security," said Ben.

"Yes," said the girl. "I thought of that too. Everything's against me."

"What about selling some jewellery? Or better still," Ben asked, "that mesh bag?"

"It would be noticed at once," said the girl. "No, I've thought of all those obvious things. And if I were to pawn, I should still have to find the money to redeem. No, it was because I had come to the end of thinking that I came to you. If you can't help me I—well, I don't know what."

She looked utterly broken.

"Well, I must think about it," said Ben, at last. "Give me till to-morrow morning and come then. But, remember, as I said, this isn't my real work, and if I am useless you mustn't grumble. Some things are too difficult."

"How kind you are!" said the girl. "I oughtn't to have worried you about it. I can see that now. But I was in such a mess. Good-bye till to-morrow, and if you can't do anything, you can't, and I must—— Well, I don't know what I must do."