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The Brother of Daphne

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    "I said you'd do something," said Daphne, leaning back easily in her long chair.

    I stopped swinging my legs and looked at her.

    "Did you, indeed," I said coldly.

    My sister nodded dreamily.

    "Then you lied, darling. In your white throat," I said pleasantly.

    "By the way, d'you know if the petrol's come?"

    "I don't even care," said Daphne. "But I didn't lie, old chap. My word is—"

    "Your bond? Quite so. But not mine. The appointment I have in Town that day—"

    "Which day?" said Daphne, with a faint smile.

    "The fete day."

    "Ah!"

    It was a bazaar fete thing. Daphne and several others—euphemistically styled workers—had conspired and agreed together to obtain money by false pretences for and on behalf of a certain mission, to wit the Banana. I prefer to put it that way. There is a certain smack about the wording of an indictment. Almost a relish. The fact that two years before I had been let in for a stall and had defrauded fellow men and women of a considerable sum of money, but strengthened my determination not to be entrapped again. At the same time I realized that I was up against it.
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