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Barnabas looked at Dan.

“To-night!” he said meaningly. “And you have one of your famous parties on! To-night the old lady will sleep—if she can—lulled by the sound of hilarious laughter, the twanging of banjos, ribald songs, and all the other pleasant little noises which are an invariable accompaniment to one of your mad entertainments. Shall you be busy to-morrow?” he asked the man.

“Yes, sir; we’re moving a family into Elm Park Gardens.”

Barnabas shook his head. “That’s unfortunate. You’ll doubtless be required here. The old lady will be making a hasty exit. The old blue Worcester dinner service will be repacked less carefully—there won’t be time for care—the corner cupboard and the Chesterfield sofa, to say nothing of the Winged——”

“Ass!” said Dan. “What is the use of talking rot about it. We shall have complaints from the owner of the studios about the noise we make. I know what it will be.”

“A new set of regulations à la German,” said Barnabas. “No pianos before seven or after ten. Lights out at eleven. We shall become a set of model young men who will work quietly all the week and go to church on Sundays. Hullo, here’s Jasper. Let’s tell him the pleasing tidings.”