«*0 » »' '* &»* 
 
 *frw 
 
 HI 
 
 :adquarter 
 
 m
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 Uniform with this Volume 
 
 THE DOP DOCTOR 
 
 SOME PRESS OPINIONS 
 
 ''Mr. Dehan is splendidly individual, and he has fashioned a big- book with 
 a dignity, an earnestness, far-ranging knowledge, and a high spiritual beauty 
 which call for enthusiastic praise." — Liverpool Courier. 
 
 " Its background— a town besieged in the South African War — is excellently 
 rendered. Mr. Dehan has noticed everything and felt everything. ... As 
 a picture of a siege it has scarcely any rival. . . . He is absorbing — that is 
 the only word to use for this strange book." — Standard. 
 
 " His plot is strong, his incidents are innumerable but not too crowded, his 
 characters for the most part live, his South Africa, and more especially the 
 siege, is often magnificently done. ... It has enough character, enough 
 pic'uresqueness, enough real sentiment and humanity to carry the writer 
 straight up to the top."- St. James's Gazette. 
 
 "He has given us with unflagging enthusiasm and often with astonishing 
 power a huge slice of human life, chaotic, formless, sombre, complex as life is. 
 It is impossible to do more than hint at the many poignant scenes. Mr. Dehan 
 can grasp and handle and penetrate human passion more surely than most 
 writers of our day. Balzac is the parallel to Mr. Dehan in scope and stand- 
 point, in lavishness and ruthlessness. That is why criticism can best sum- 
 marise 'The Dop Doctor ' as a big rugged slice of life placed boldly and un- 
 remittingly before us by a man powerfully competent to th-e task." — Daily Mail. 
 
 " It is a warm-hearted, generous, over-lavish book. His opening scene has 
 real beauty and pathos, and his detailed story of a great siege constitutes a 
 really fine background." — Times. 
 
 "A great novel. The author has written a fine and moving tale, wide in its 
 range, deep in its sympathies, full of the pain and the suffering, the courage 
 and the truth of life." — Observer. 
 
 " What a story it is ! . . . Mr. Dehan has given in 'The Dop Doctor ' of 
 the most striking and the most impressive in fiction. He has, without doubt, 
 written one of the books of the year — one that every man and woman will be 
 reading."— T. P.'s Weekly. 
 
 " It is a very notable and even a great work. Mr. Dehan has the passion 
 and the fire in which modem fiction is wanting. He has wide horizons. He 
 can find room for great thoughts and ideas; he uses kindling names, and he 
 maintains his fervour at a high pitch through all his many pages. ... It is 
 an achievement of which any living author might be proud." — British Weekly. 
 
 "There are many moments of intense dramatic force. I doubt if there has 
 ever been a novel which so vividly g'ave the impression of a real state of war. . . . 
 There is a great variety of characters, all of them are vividly realisable. 
 . . . There is an energy, a fulness of spirit, a perceptiveness, a responsive- 
 ness to both lighter moods and blinding passions, a sense of great issues, 
 which give it a quality no less significant than rare." — Daily News. 
 
 "To the real novel-reader, who likes to spent! many long evenings over a 
 story which he is ultimately sorry to have finished, we most heartily prescribe 
 Mr. Dehan's sustaining volume. ... At once Mr. Dehan gr ps us." — Pall 
 Mall Gazette. 
 
 London : WILLIAM HEINEMANN, Bedford Street, W.C.
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 Uniform with this Volume 
 
 BETWEEN TWO THIEVES 
 
 SOME PRESS OPINIONS 
 
 "One thing- at any rate is certain. If ' Between Two Thieves ' does not 
 catch the popular favour as completely as 'The Dop Doctor,' it will be the 
 fickle humour of the public that is to blame, and not the sincerity or work- 
 manship of the author. Moves consistently to a far-seen goal the indomitable 
 sincerity of outlook and workmanship which stamped 'The Dop Doctor' as 
 one of the most honest literary productions of our time. The same stern 
 determination to strip life of its illusions, to reveal the cruelty and deception 
 which underlie popular success, to condone human failure and condemn 
 inhuman iriumphs — in a word, the same singleness of eye and heart make of 
 this new book a living- picture, intensely touching, deeply suggestive, and 
 impeccably true. Here, we feel, is the heart of life, torn from the body of the 
 age, quivering, palpitating. The sight of it may shock the senses, but it 
 would be mere cowardice to deny its appeal." — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 " It is not merely as a novel, as a tale that is told, that one regards such a 
 book as this. It is rather as an epitome of its time, an enkindling record of 
 the courage and self-sacrifice, the confusion, abuses, the horrors and sufferings 
 summed up in the word Crimea. The book lives; it burns with enthusiasm ; 
 it is based on a wide and penetrating knowledge of life and of humanity. 
 There are moments when the sheer intensity of the writing, its imaginative 
 vision, produce an effect little short of that of genius. We go out of one 
 roaring world into another. And such a book will capture its thousands of 
 readers — little likely to pay much attention to a criticism bent only on dis- 
 covering the defects of its generous qualities." — Westminster Gazette. 
 
 " The interest is great throughout and cumulative to the end." — Times. 
 
 " This huge panoramic and kaleidoscopic romance of France and England 
 from 1820 to 1S55, with the epilogue bringing the life-story of two of the 
 principal characters down to the present day, illustrates in striking fashion the 
 development to modern fiction in its relation to history. His new novel has 
 exuberance, eloquence, and passion." — Spectator. 
 
 " Everyone will have to read ' Between Two Thieves,' the new and notable 
 novel from the pen of Richard Dehan, author of 'The Dop Doctor.' How- 
 ever exuberant, it is always picturesque, and there are many pages of such 
 enthralling interest that time is forgotten in the perusal. In these latter pages 
 we have a thrilling and unforgettable picture of the horrors of the Crimean 
 War ; and the author exposes with mordant power the appalling scandals of 
 the British Transport and Commissariat Departments for which the campaign 
 was so notorious. Handled with all the licence and imagination of the born 
 romancist." — Graphic. 
 
 "The book is written in an ecstasy, a passion, a fury. Knowledge, energy, 
 sincerity, enthusiasm. This book is a remarkable testimony to the eneruy, 
 sincerity, and enthusiasm of Mr. Dehan. It will undoubtedly command its 
 audience, and will leave a large number of people with a vivid, although some- 
 what partial, picture of an interesting period of history." — Standard. 
 
 London : WILLIAM HEINEMANN, Bedford Street, W.C.
 
 The Headquarter Recruit
 
 New 6s. Novels 
 
 JAMES HURD. By R. O. Prowse, Author 
 
 of " Voysey," etc. 
 
 THE AMBASSADRESS. By William 
 Wriothesley. 
 
 GOSLINGS. By J. D. Beresford. 
 
 THE MERRY MARAUDERS. By Arthur 
 J. Rees. 
 
 VIRGINIA. By Ellen Glasgow, Author of 
 
 "The Voice of the People." 
 
 THE HIPPODROME. By Rachel Hayward. 
 
 GUTTER BABIES. By Dorothea Slade. 
 
 Illustrated by Lady Stanley. 
 
 GROWING PAINS. By Ivy Low. 
 
 LU OF THE RANGES. By Eleanor Mor- 
 
 daunt, Author of "The Garden of Contentment," etc. 
 
 THE KINGDOM. By Harold Goad. 
 
 LONDON : WILLIAM HEINEMANN
 
 The 
 
 Headquarter Recruit 
 
 And Other Stories 
 
 By 
 
 Richard Dehan 
 
 Author of "The Dop Doctor," "Between Two Thieves" 
 
 London 
 
 William Heinemann 
 
 1913
 
 Copyright
 
 
 TO 
 
 SIR GEORGE LEWIS, Babt. 
 
 "Poor thanks for the rich kindness ; 
 The liberal loan of wit, aDd season'd knowledge, 
 Which I cannot forget, Sir, nor would ever. . ." 
 
 Ben Jonson. 
 
 Vll
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 
 
 II. GOUQOU 
 
 HI. THE MAN IN THE WOODS AND 1 
 
 IV. HOW FARLINGBY FLEW 
 
 V. THE QUALITY OF MERCY 
 
 VI. A CHINTZ- COVERED CHAIR 
 
 VII. " ROUGE GAGNE !" 
 
 VTII. THE FOURTH VOLUME 
 
 IX. A STUFFED LION 
 
 X. THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 
 
 XI. LIEGE LADY MINE 
 
 XH. TOTO THE TEMPTER 
 
 XIII. CLAIRVOYANCE - 
 
 XIV. IN THE LAGOON 
 XV. MRS. ORICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 XVI. TRANSFERENCE 
 XVII. A subaltern's HEALING 
 xviii. todminster's thirst - 
 xix. white fox 
 xx. realization 
 xxi. full-sized james 
 xxii. a new leaf 
 xvtii. the tribute of offa - 
 
 ORESTS 
 
 rA'.B 
 1 
 
 18 
 
 31 
 
 41 
 
 51 
 
 60 
 
 73 
 
 84 
 
 90 
 
 104 
 
 117 
 
 134 
 
 151 
 
 161 
 
 175 
 
 208 
 
 220 
 
 224 
 
 239 
 
 253 
 
 266 
 
 327 
 
 337 
 
 IX
 
 The majority of these stories have previously appeared 
 in "The World'" and simUar well-known periodicals. 
 Others are notr published for the first time. 
 
 K. D. 
 
 June 7, 1913.
 
 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 
 
 When a new, pink, callow subaltern, fresh from Sand- 
 hurst, certified to be in good mental and bodily condition, 
 and free from any physical defect likely to interfere with 
 the efficient performance of military duty — I quote from 
 the Government Regulations — when such a one joins 
 the Dapple Greys, and has been thoroughly packed with 
 other things necessary to know ; when he has acquired 
 the Dapple Grey seat and the Dapple Grey hand ; when 
 he has learned the Dapple Grey method of wearing a 
 uniform, carrying the Colours, and knotting a necktie ; 
 when the history of the regiment, its achievements, 
 traditions, follies, maxims, and jealousies, shall have 
 soaked through his eyes and ears into the brain, blood, 
 and nerves of his body ; when the Adjutant looks upon 
 him as properly salted, and he has been weighed and not 
 found wanting in the scales of the rank and file — then he 
 will be very sure to hear — never from the mouth of the 
 Chief himself, unless he be proved pure gold in the furnace 
 and worthy of the highest honour — the Tale of the Head- 
 quarter Recruit. 
 
 The tale is usually recounted after mess, in a quiet 
 cushiony corner of the smoking-room, when the air is 
 dusky with the fragrant vapours of Havana or Yenidje, 
 and the light-footed, snowily-clad Hindu mess-boys, who 
 count among the little pet extravagances of the regiment, 
 trip to and fro with chinks, coughing in a subdued, sick- 
 monkey-like way — for the climate of our beloved island 
 
 1
 
 2 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 
 
 is bard upon what they have learned to call their chests. 
 But it is best to gather it as it drops, once in a blue moon, 
 sentence by sentence, from under the great white mous- 
 tache of the Chief, when Lady Lucy has gathered her 
 priceless old laces about her still beautiful shoulders, and 
 passed out of the dining-room with a kind, smiling glance 
 of her sapphire-blue eyes for the blushing and beatified 
 boy who opens the door, and hears his spurs click together 
 as he makes his bow. . . . 
 
 " A glass of port with you. . . . When you marry," 
 saj^s Sir Alured, who will have observed, not without mental 
 complacency, the admiration in the boy's eyes — " when 
 you marry — and dee'd bad policy to do that before 3-011 're 
 thirty-five, take the word from me ! — marry a tall woman. 
 Little women degenerate into dumps, the middle height 
 becomes insignificant when the premyare jooness is past, 
 and the rosebud, by George ! that was all dew and perfume, 
 and that sort of thing, you know, don't you know ? is a 
 rose full-blown. But height, with breeding, for me ; and 
 a blonde for choice. Hardly a grey hair in My Lady's 
 head to-day, and all those coils her own ; while as for the 
 colour — that's not the kind of gold they give you in change 
 for a bank-note of fifty frongs in the Palay Royal." 
 
 Sir Alured will pause to extract a cigar of portentous 
 size and strength from the receptacle that resembles a 
 week-end suit case, and the boy usually saj's, blushing to 
 the eyes : 
 
 " I — I think, sir, that Lady Lucy is the most beautiful 
 woman I ever s-saw in my life, whatever her age was." 
 
 "Another glass of port !" The Chief fills bumpers for 
 both. "We'll drink My Lady's health. Old-fashioned 
 custom, but we're both old-fashioned folks, by George ! 
 And light up ! You prefer cigarettes, dee'd filthy things ! 
 but all young fellows smoke 'em now." The hazel, hawk- 
 eyes of the Chief now shine with a softened light. The
 
 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 3 
 
 fold between his heavy black eyebrows will relax, the wise 
 little puckers at the temples will smooth themselves 
 out, leaving their indications charted in white upon the 
 crisp and sun-browned skin. " A beautiful woman," re- 
 peats Sir Alured. " I've heard that said fairly often, 
 you know, don't you know ? in twenty-five years. But 
 you ought to have seen My Lady at eighteen !" 
 
 And from this beginning results, if circumstances be 
 favourable and the little gods propitious, the story of the 
 Headquarter Recruit. 
 
 " It was in 1885 — durin' the squabble between England 
 and Russia respectin' the Zulfikar Pass — and things looked 
 promisin' for Active Service." Sir Alured clears his throat, 
 and tugs at the huge white moustache with a gaunt 
 brown hand, on the little finger of which a great Indian 
 emerald, square-shaped, graven with the crest of the 
 regiment, and given to its colonel by the prince of a 
 feudatory native State, gleams like the eye of some 
 ambushed beast of prey. " Dufferin was Viceroy, and 
 there was a cloud no bigger than a what-d'y-call-it on 
 the Eastern horizon that meant trouble. And here at the 
 dipot — and Studminster, in those days, was even more 
 confoundedly dee'd dull than Studminster is to-day — 
 you may take it that we were lookin' for the dance to 
 begin. The Chief, Leathdonald, was as nervous as a hen on 
 hot bricks, jumped at the sight of a telegram like an orderly 
 sergeant at the sound of the quartermaster's bugle, and we 
 were as hard as nails, you know, don't you know, and as 
 fit as fiddles. ' Both officers and men highly efficient, and 
 pantin' to distinguish themselves upon the bloody field,' 
 as the Studminster Gazette put it. The then editor was 
 the father of the infernal ass who does the paper now, 
 and very like him. ... Of course, at this and all the other 
 depots recruitin' went on briskly. The system of enlist in"
 
 4 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 
 
 men by brigades instead of battalions was just started, 
 and the confusion was soniethin' to remember. . . . 
 Suggested the Day of Judgment, you know, don't you 
 know ? with thousands of lost souls shriekin' for their 
 brigade -numbers from every quarter of the compass, and 
 squads upon squads doin' drill in their ordinary clothes, 
 because until the numbers were assigned they couldn't 
 get their kits. Haw !" 
 
 The Chief knocks the ash tenderly from his cigar, and 
 goes on : " Bein' a junior Captain, and actin' as Adjutant 
 vice Holroyd — ' Cricky ' Holroyd, a man whose eyelashes 
 the women used to rave about and who'd sustained Boodle's 
 fracture of the patella in a regimental football match, 
 and was on the sick list in consequence — I hadn't much 
 time for playin' crokay, as you may guess. But now 
 and then I got a day or two's leave, and I generally put 
 in my time at Studminster Towers. The Duke was a 
 charmin' old man, regular type of the old English gentle- 
 man, y'know, don't you know ? and the Duchess was one 
 of the finest women — barring my wife ! — I ever set eyes 
 on. She was my mother's dearest friend, and it was at her 
 house in town that I'd left my first card with the Sand- 
 hurst College address, after I'd passed in from Eton. And 
 a dee'd conceited young puppy I was that day, I don't 
 mind telling you. The Duchess made me free of her 
 drawin'-room, and was confoundedly kind — for my own 
 sake, she was good enough to say, as well as my mother's, 
 who thought the world of her. ' Let Horatia form your 
 taste, my dearest boy,' she said to me over and over 
 again, ' and you cannot possibly go wrong.' " 
 
 Sir Alured pauses to sip at his tawny port with a 
 lurking twinkle in the corner of his eye. 
 
 " Of course, I fell in love with her, you know, don't 
 you know ? " he resumes, " and the Duke was awfully 
 pleased — said it showed my spirit, and it was what he'd
 
 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 5 
 
 done himself when he was a young man. Regular old 
 proo chevallyay, the Duke, and the Duchess was as clever 
 as she was handsome, by Jove ! and kept me on the curb 
 with' a light hand, while allowin' me to fetch and carry, 
 and dance attendance on her in that way women like 
 in a boy and despise in a man, you know, don't you know ? 
 And she was my first love, and I enjoyed bein' miserable 
 about her and keepin' a glove of hers I'd boned when she 
 wasn't lookin', in my letter-case. . . . But her thumb 
 on her bedroom candlestick at the bottom of the grand 
 staircase — there were candlesticks in those days — was the 
 Rubicon, as far as kissin' went, you may take my word ! 
 
 " Of course, the Duchess's girls — Lady Agatha and Lady 
 Loosay — were children in those puppy days of mine — 
 two schoolroom fillies with long arms and legs, and long 
 tails of yellow hair ; and the heir the Marquis of Cour- 
 theron, now Duke of Studminster, was a pretty, fair- 
 haired little beggar, lookin' in his velvet and point lace 
 and fal-lals like a lady's page out of a mediaeval novel. 
 You ought to have heard that young shaver swear, sir, 
 in the stable-yards. ... A London cabby 'd have hung 
 his head before that boy ; and as for Juxon, Troop C — 
 you know the brute I mean, a V.C. man, and the foulest- 
 mouthed blackguard unhung — pit him against that boy, he 
 couldn't curse worth a dee — it's my firm belief ! Haw, hum !" 
 
 Sir Alured would clear his throat sonorously. 
 
 " Dear !" Lady Lucy might say, looking in from the 
 drawing-room, " the coffee is getting cold." 
 
 " Callow wants to smoke another cigarette. Ten minutes' 
 grace, Loosay, and we're with you." And as Lady 
 Lucy's slim jewelled hand let fall the portiere, the Chief 
 would go on : " All that — about my bein' so tremen- 
 dously gone on the Duchess, was buried under the accumu- 
 lated love-affairs of years. But when they knew that I 
 was in the neighbourhood the Duke sent a mounted groom
 
 6 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 
 
 over to the Barracks to ask me to dine and sleep, and for 
 old sake's sake, you know, don't you know ? I was delighted 
 to accept. The Duke, though crippled with hereditary 
 gout (it took the fine old fellow below the belt before the 
 year was over), the Duke was charmed to see me, and 
 the Duchess was nearly as handsome as ever ; the regular 
 woman of the world, you know, don't you know ? with a 
 house full of people, includin' Royalty, to entertain ; and 
 the welcomin' hand and the mo hooroo for everyone. And 
 Courtheron twenty-one, and goin' out to India with the 
 Bay Hussars. And the girls, Lady Agatha and Lady 
 Loosay — twenty and eighteen. And if you had seen 
 Lady Loosay as she was then " 
 
 "Alured," would say the crystal-clear voice of Lady 
 Lucy from the drawing-room, " Mr. Callow must have 
 finished his cigarette. I believe it is you who are delaying. 
 And the Doctor does not approve of your drinking port. 
 He said so only last Thursday." 
 
 " Extraordinary memory you have, Loosay ! Well, as 
 I was saying, if you had seen her " 
 
 " My dear, I cannot believe that anybody really cares 
 in the least about those old stories." There would be an 
 imperative ring in the tone, and a little impatient rustle 
 of silks would accompany it. And Callow, having heard 
 whispers that the stern, unbending Colonel was, in the 
 seclusion of his home, an obedient and submissive husband, 
 would chuckle in his sleeve. 
 
 " Really, Loosay ! . . . Oh, by the way, what's that 
 noise upstairs ? Sounds like Agatha's baby cryin'." 
 
 " Are you quite sure ? Poor little dear, the nurse 
 must have left it. I'll go up at once." And Lady Lucy's 
 silks would rustle anxiously away. 
 
 The Chief, his strategic movement crowned with success, 
 would remark, looking gravely in the face of his guest : 
 
 " I only said it sounded like, you know, don't you
 
 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 7 
 
 know ? But grandmothers are worse than mothers when 
 it comes to baby- worshipping and when My Lady has 
 made quite sure it's asleep, and tucked it up to her satis- 
 faction, and overhauled the bottle -department and in- 
 spected the night-light, she'll sit down by the crib and 
 spend half an hour or so in tracin' family likenesses — in 
 a lump of live putty. Women are queer creatures, bless 
 'em ! But I was forgettin' the story. Where did I leave 
 off?" 
 
 ' Where you met the Duchess of Studminster again, 
 I think, sir." 
 
 " Just so. It's a pretty couplet of that French poet- 
 fellow's, but a He on the face of it. We don't revenong 
 toojoor to our premyare amoor. We're very glad to see 
 her lookin' fit and in good condition after so many years ; 
 but when it comes to love-makin' we prefer to break fresh 
 ground. And it's a far cry between eighteen and eight- 
 and-twenty. And I was never a romantic sort, as you'll 
 easily believe. But I don't mind telling you that the 
 first sight of Lady Loosay standin' under the Moroni 
 portrait that hangs over the Brescia fireplace in the great 
 hall of the Castle, where they were all gathered for after- 
 noon tea, left a record impression. At eighteen she was 
 nearly as tall as she is now — and My Lady stands five 
 foot nine in her stockings ! — and as slim and straight as an 
 assegai. And those gold hair-ropes of hers were redder, 
 and she wore 'em hanging down her back in a plait as 
 thick as the chain-cable of a man-o'-war. . . . By George !" 
 Sir Alured's cigar will have gone out, but he does not 
 seem to know it. " She looked me in the face as frankly as 
 a good sort of schoolboy, and said that she remembered mo 
 coming to Berkeley Square when she was a little girl. . . . 
 And I took her in to dinner that night, and she and Agatha 
 gave us some singin' after dinner — all the Poyletts are 
 musical — and Lady Loosay sang a ballad of the ecclesi-
 
 8 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 
 
 astical-sentimental kind, about a little chorister with a 
 snow-white surplice and a spotless soul, that kept ringin' 
 in my head. . . . And my dreams were all white and blue 
 and glowing gold, like her skin and eyes and hair. Next 
 morning I had an idea that I wasn't really badly bitten, 
 and that the impression would pass. But when I found 
 myself burning letters and gloves and rubbish I'd cherished 
 — as young fools do — and wishin' that I'd kept my soul 
 as confoundedly clean as that chorister-chap's surplice, 
 I knew it was a case ! Fact is, I was over head and spurs 
 in love ; and the Duchess saw it, because she confided 
 to me as a friend of the family that a Russian, Prince 
 Doubrikoff, a relative of the Imperial Family and im- 
 mensely wealthy, had met Loosay at the State Ball of 
 the previous season — at which she'd made her deboo, by 
 George ! and set all the heads wagging. And though her 
 darling girl was so young, yet, as a mother, she approved 
 of early marriages and hoped that no foolish flirtation, 
 which, of course, would never come to anything, might 
 blind her pet to the advantage of fulfilling her obvious 
 duty, to rongjay herself as befitted her station and 
 gratify the dearest wishes of her parents, you know, 
 don't you know ? And the news came as a dee'd facer 
 at the time, my boy ; but when I remembered that I was 
 a third son, Captain in a Cavalry regiment, without prospects 
 or expectations, and a beggarly eleven -hundred a year 
 besides my pay, I said to myself that the old woman was 
 in the right. And at the earliest opportunity I made 
 my congjay. It hurt, I don't mind tellin' you, to go away 
 without a word to — to her." The slender stem of the 
 Chief's wineglass snapped as the strong brown fingers 
 closed upon it with unconscious force. " Dee the thing, 
 another of 'em gone !" said the Chief. " But ' it was my 
 duty, and I did, ' as Gilbert says ; and that one word would 
 have led to all the others. So I went back to the d6pot
 
 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 9 
 
 and threw myself with ardour into the recruitin'. I 
 astonished Leathdonald, I remember, when I drove a 
 four-in-hand round the town on market day, harnessed 
 to a brake resplendent with flutterin' ribbons, and half a 
 dozen bandsmen playin' patriotic tunes. I hooked a 
 goodly number of ' death or glorys ' with that little 
 dodge ; and Donohoe — died of perforation, poor beggar, 
 in Field Hospital, near Bloemfontein, in 1900 ! — Donohoe 
 was my recruitin' sergeant. He had a tongue dipped in 
 Irish honey, and before the yokels knew it the shilling was 
 fisted. Few of 'em knew that they could back out before 
 being attested, and escape Service by payin' a pound 
 ' smart ' money. . . . They're wiser now, dee 'em ! 
 Trouble you for a light, and do have another of those 
 paper things ! Wine's with you. Thanks !" 
 
 The Chief would pour out another glass of port and 
 absorb the wine slowly, a smile lurking under the huge 
 white moustache. 
 
 " One morning in the orderly-room," he would go on, 
 " when the Colonel was lookin' over the medical reports, 
 there came a knock — Donohoe's knock, soundin' as though 
 a bull-calf had butted the door. ' Discouragin', Gassiloe,' 
 says the Chief, looking up from a fist of malformations, 
 chiefly toes and veins, you know, don't you know ? ' Sixty- 
 five per cent of these beasts will have to be rejected.' And 
 he began to grind away on a pet subject of his — namely, 
 the State breedin' of healthy and well- developed men for 
 the Service. Frederick the Great had found the plan 
 answer confoundedly well, and why the deuce shouldn't 
 her Majesty Queen Victoria? And I said 'Yes!' and 
 'No !' until Leathdonald had got well into his stride, and 
 then I gave in to thinkin' of Lady Loosay. She'd been 
 uppermost in my mind that mornin' as I shaved, and that's 
 a fact. . . Usually I'd managed to pile a lot of other
 
 10 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 
 
 things on the top of her. But all the morning I'd been 
 haunted by a vision of her blue eyes. And when Donohoe 
 butted at the door again I jumped as if I'd been stung, 
 and shouted : ' Come in ! ' 
 
 " Donohoe put in his head. I saw at once that some- 
 thing was in the wind, for that Hibernian mug of his (he 
 had an upper lip like a tent-flap and a nose like a mushroom) 
 was twisted up in the oddest way, and his little pig's eyes 
 twinkled like two oil-wicks in a stable-lantern. 
 
 " ' Begging your pardon, sorr,' says he, ' and saving 
 the Colonel's presence, I'd be glad if you'd spake a worrd 
 wid me outside, av it's convanient.' 
 
 " So I went into the passage and shut the door. ' Say 
 what you have to say, and don't stand there lookin' so 
 dee'd mysterious,' I said to him, I remember. ' If it's 
 a question of recruits, the Colonel's sick of your cripples ! ' 
 
 " ' An' well he may be,' says Donohoe in that velvety, 
 coaxing Limerick brogue. ' Sooner shall a man wid 
 variegated veins or anklemoses ' — that was his way of 
 pronouncing anchylosis — ' enter the eye av a camel than 
 pass the medical examination when wance ould Gimlets ' — 
 that was the Doctor's nickname — ' has bid him sthrip. 
 But 'tis not a question av recruitses. 'Tis a recruity, 
 Captain dear, I'll be makin' bould to lay before your 
 private observation.' 
 
 " ' Where did you pick him up V I asked." 
 
 " ' He called on me in the coal-yard an' inthrojuiced 
 himself,' says Donohoe, ' in the style av polite society.' 
 
 " ' Oh, a gentleman, you mean !' I said. 
 
 " ' Troth and faix,' said Donohoe, wipin' off a grin with 
 the back of his hand, ' I'll not go so far so to be sayin' 
 that. But come and look at him, sorr, an' judge for 
 yourself.' 
 
 " ' Very well,' said I carelessly. ' Is he a good height V 
 " ' Five foot ten in his brogues,' said Donohoe, ' an' a
 
 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 11 
 
 skin like a lily. An' there's promise in the slim av him — 
 but it's not the promise av muscle an' bone ! ' 
 
 "'A bad hearing,' I said. 'And where is he?' For 
 we'd reached the doorway, and I saw nothing like a would- 
 be recruit waiting in the barrack square. Donohoe's 
 answer surprised me more than a bit. 
 
 " ' I've clapped him in your little office, Captain dear,' 
 says the fellow, breathing hard and jerking his thumb to- 
 wards the next block, ' an' turned the kay on him, for fear 
 any eye would be clapped on him above your own.' And 
 he held up a rusty iron key as big as a bed-winch. 
 
 " ' Donohoe,' I said, ' if your only sister has gone and 
 got married again, I'll admit it's merely natural that you 
 should have been drinking her health. But as she's taken 
 six husbands, to my certain knowledge, since July last, as 
 a near relative you ought to expostulate. As regards this 
 recruit — you've locked him up in my office, which is a dee'd 
 irregular thing to do, and might get you into trouble. But 
 if the young beggar is set upon enlistin' ' 
 
 " ' Dead set he is !' said Donohoe. ' By the teeth an 
 the nails. 'Tis the Bay Hussars he has on the brain ; he 
 knows they're ordered to the East, and goin' with them 
 he'd be by hook or crook.' 
 
 " ' We'll keep him for the Dapple Greys,' said I, ' if 
 there are the makings of a man in him.' And at that 
 Donohoe began to cough and splutter, so that he had to 
 stop and lean against a wall to recover breath. 
 
 " ' The makin's av a man in him ! Och ! och ! 'Tis a 
 cowld I have on me chest, sorr !' he said, as he mopped his 
 streaming eyes, ' that takes me by the windpipe in a while. 
 
 . . . The makin's av a I'll go bail he has !' And when 
 
 he'd pulled himself together and turned into the passage 
 that led to the Adjutant's little ground-glass-faced office, I 
 heard him muttering the words over and over as he clinked 
 along before me. Then he unlocked the door of the office
 
 J 2 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 
 
 and threw it open with a flourish, and I walked in. There 
 was the new recruit standin' by the knee-hole table — a 
 tall, fair-haired, slim lad, in a shabby tweed suit several 
 sizes too large. He'd an old shooting-cap on, with the 
 peak pulled well down over his eyes. But the eyes were 
 Lady Loosay's ! 
 
 1 My heart gave a buck-jump, and my palate dried up. 
 I couldn't frame a word, but Donohoe saved me. He 
 stepped in behind me, shutting the door, and setting his 
 broad shoulders against it as though by accident, you know, 
 don't you know ? so that nobody outside could see over 
 the upper line of grounding. 
 
 Take off yer hat !' said Donohoe in the usual authorita- 
 tive tone, as though he were speakin' to the ordinary yokel. 
 And Lady Loosay snatched it off, blushing crimson to the 
 temples. She'd never seen me out of mufti, you know, 
 don't you know ? and probably hadn't recognized me at 
 first. But she knew me now, by George ! And I could 
 see her heart plunging under her shabby waistcoat, as 
 badly as mine was under my uniform. I was in full parade- 
 kit, you know, don't you know? and she might have 
 thought me a dazzlin' spectacle, but for havin' danced 
 with uniforms at the State Ball. The Russian Prince of 
 sorts I've spoken of was Colonel of the Ismailovski Guards, 
 so the gilt was off the gingerbread. Shy as she was herself, 
 I stood, by George ! ready at the wind of a wad to have 
 turned and bolted, I verily believe. But Donohoe saved 
 the situation. 
 
 Sorr,' he said in that honeyed Limerick brogue of 
 his, ' this is the young lad I spoke av that was seekin' to 
 join a Cavalry regiment goin' out to Inja. Would you 
 be plased to put him through his facin's in the usual way V 
 He turned to Lady Loosay, and, to my horror, spoke to 
 her in the usual way. ' Hould up your head, and spake 
 when you're spoken to. And av you're afther givin'
 
 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 13 
 
 any av your lip to the off'cer, the Lord have mercy on 
 your bones when I get ye to myself outside !' said Donohoe. 
 " There was nothing but to go through with it. I took 
 the office chair and ran over the questions. ' What is 
 your name V I began, in a hoarse, unnatural bass. 
 
 " The answering sound of Lady Loosay's voice sent cold 
 chills racin' down my spine. ' T-Thomas Atkins,' she 
 answered faintly. 
 
 " ' A good name for a sojer,' said Donohoe, ' av it's 
 your own !' 
 
 " ' Your parish V I went on, ' and county of birth V 
 " ' I was born in the Riviera,' said Lady Loosay ? 
 fidgetin' with the end of her necktie, a spotted, bird's- 
 eye thing that must have belonged to one of the Stud- 
 minster stablemen. I went on : 
 ' What is your age V 
 ' Rising eighteen,' said she. 
 ' Your trade or calling V 
 
 ' I beg your pardon ! I'm afraid — I don't quite ' 
 
 ' No trade or calling,' I said, pretending to make a 
 note. 
 
 1 ' A shebeen loafer,' commented Donohoe. ' Clane 
 hands make dirty bread,' he'd added, before I could frown 
 him down. 
 
 1 Are you apprentice V was the next question. 
 ' Oh, dear, no !' said Lady Loosay. She was cooler 
 in the cheeks and had got her second wind, so to speak ; 
 and I read in her face that she believed I didn't know her. 
 I went on : 
 
 Are you married V 
 
 ' No !' she said, with a frown, ' and I don't ' She 
 
 bit off the end of the sentence. ' Don't mean to be unless 
 I choose," said the quiver of her short upper lip. 
 
 Donohoe was down upon her like nails. "   Is there no 
 poor gurrul ye have coaxed an' deludhered an' left to t/V •<
 
 14 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 
 
 marcy av' the parish wid a cock av your hat ? I'll go bail 
 there is, by the look in the tail av your eye. . . . Have 
 ye any family, licensed or unlicensed, depindent on ye ? 
 Me sowl to a flay's that ye have, as many as there were 
 hairs on the blade av the razor that shaved you. By the 
 Black Joke av Killmallow ! if you shut your mutton fist 
 
 at me, you suckin' prize-fighter, I'll lam you ' 
 
 " ' Confound you !' I gasped out, choking with rage. 
 ' Confound you, Donohoe, hold your tongue !' 
 
 ' ' And 'tis little wondher av the Captain would lose 
 his timper wid you,' Donohoe said coldly, with his re- 
 bukin' eye on the recruit, ' afther you givin' him the lip 
 you have. Lave him to me, sorr,' he went on ; " lave me 
 to dale wid him, the son av a dumplin'-fed day-labourer, 
 borrun between a pair av charity blankets an' vaccinated 
 from a parish calf ' 
 
 CI ( 
 
 I — I'll put you under arrest,' I gasped, ' if you open 
 your mouth again.' 
 
 ' You hear !' said Donohoe warningly, ignoring me. 
 ' You hear the Captain ! Behave, then, an' answer the 
 interrigations av the off'cer with dacency an' thruth. 
 Can ye ride ?' 
 
 " ' Anything !' said Lady Loosay, with a flash of the eyes # 
 
 " ' A horse,' went on Donohoe (I believed the man 
 possessed) ' or a cow ? Can ye fence, swim, box, shoot, 
 an' take the high lep standin' on your head V 
 
 " ' I can fence and swim,' said Lady Loosay pluckily — 
 ' and use the gloves,' she added as an afterthought. . . • 
 ' Court, my brother, used to say ' — and she gulped a little 
 — ' that I hit as straight as any fellow he knew-! ' 
 
 " ' Have ye serrved in the Militia, Arrmy, or Police V 
 went on Donohoe. ' Have ye ever been rejicted as onfit 
 for Service an' marked wid " D " or " B.C." ? Will ye 
 enlist for a short six wid the Colours an' anodher half- 
 r'fjiien in the Reserve, or take the alternative av twelve
 
 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 15 
 
 years sthraight on ind ? Will ye serve for twelve months 
 exthra if abroad, or jurin' a war when your regular time 
 is up ? Will ye lave the Reserve if called on to jine any 
 brigade av Cavalry in imminint national danger or odher 
 immergency ? Will ye ondhertake to count white dots 
 on black paper across the long length av the Hospital 
 Examination Department, both eyes bein' covered wid a 
 handkerchief 1 Will ye learrn to tell the front av your face 
 from the back av your head, distinguish your left leg wid 
 the hay-band on it from your right wid the wisp av sthraw, 
 an' advance three steps backwards an' dhress by the 
 gutther ? Will ye patronize the Recreation Room an' 
 kape out av the Canteen, or march to blackhole in forma- 
 tion av wan, wid a skinful av malt an' a fiery eye, an' pay 
 for your dhrinks as a man pays, wid exthra guard an' 
 punishment- dhrill in the mornin' ? Ye will ? Then, in 
 the name av Mary Kelly ! come wid me before the Docthor.' 
 Donohoe swung about, opened the door and pointed to 
 the passage. 'And when he bids ye sthrip to the hide,' 
 he roared, ' sthrip ! an' if he ordhers ye to take that off too 
 — do it av you're able !' " 
 
 " I grew red and jumped up, knockin' over the chair. 
 I've an idea that I meant to kill Donohoe. But, by George ! 
 I saw in a flash that the Sergeant had planned to break 
 down the girl's guard, and that he'd done it — in the only 
 way possible. Lady Loosay gave a little cry, and went 
 white and red and red and white — four changes to the 
 second. And her hands quivered out to me in an en- 
 treating way that was all a woman's own. . . . 
 
 " ' She's bate ! Bate an' broke, God forgive me !' I 
 
 heard the Sergeant mutter, and then 
 
 " ' If I might speak to you alone,' Lady Loosay gasped, 
 ' not in the presence of this man,' and Donohoe saluted 
 at my look, and went out with a flea in his ear. I found 
 my tongue when he'd taken his upper Up out of the office.
 
 16 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 
 
 " ' If there is anything I can do for you, I shall be glad/ 
 I said as gently as I could. ' You remind me rather of 
 somebody I used to know, don't you know V And Lady 
 Loosay cried out : ' You used to know me — you do know 
 me ! Oh, Captain Gassiloe, I'm Lucy Poylett — and I've 
 run away from Studminster Towers because mother has 
 set her heart upon my marrying a Russian Prince who 
 wears a wig, and father and Agatha back her up. . . . 
 And no one is my friend but Courtheron, and he is going 
 to India with the Bay Hussars ; and I thought if I could 
 dress up like a boy and enlist — like Mary Ambree or one 
 of those other brave girls — I could tell him who I was quite 
 quietly, and sleep in his tent, and clean his sword, and 
 fight beside him when we were in battle. But I'd no idea 
 of the awful things that are done to people who want to 
 enlist in the Army.' She shuddered. ' And, oh ! do 
 save me from being dragged before the Doctor !' And 
 
 then she broke down and cried, and " The Chief's 
 
 bronzed hand was busy with the sweeping white^mous- 
 tache. " I comforted her as well as I could, you know, 
 don't you know V 
 
 " And there ends the story of the Headquarter Recruit ?" 
 the listener might ask. 
 
 " Hardly quite there. . . . There's a bit of an end to it," 
 and with a light in his bronze hawk-eyes that wonderfully 
 softened the grim, sardonic expression of his lean, aquiline 
 features, Sir Alured would go on :" Of course, the plan of cam- 
 paign was to wire to Courtheron to come at once, despatch a 
 private messenger for Lady Loosay's maid, and lock Lady 
 Loosay up in the office until the woman arrived with her 
 mistress's clothes. Meanwhile the Castle was. ringin' 
 with the Duchess's hysterics, and the moat and the Long 
 Pond were bein' dragged by the gardeners, under the 
 Duke's directions. They didn't find the body, though ! 
 and towards the close of the engagement Lady Loosay
 
 THE HEADQUARTER RECRUIT 17 
 
 came up with reinforcements and carried the day. And 
 Doubrikoff got his marchin' orders." 
 
 " And the British Army lost another Mary Ambree V 
 the youngster might hazard. 
 
 " There are more ways than one of servin' with the 
 Colours," the Chief would say soberly ; " and My Lady 
 chose to wear a weddin' ring instead of a pair of ' 
 
 " Alured !" the voice of Lady Lucy would call warningly 
 from the drawing-room. 
 
 " And there are people, mind you," Sir Alured ended, 
 " who say that she has worn 'em for twenty- five years. 
 Perhaps they are dee'd liars !" He would rise ; " Perhaps 
 they're not, you know, don't you know ? . . . We're coming 
 for some music, Loosay !" 
 
 And Lady Lucy would sing to the boy, in her sweet, 
 thrilling voice, the " Ballad of Mary Ambree." 
 
 "When captains courageous, whom Death could not daunt, 
 Did march to the siege of the City of Gaunt ; 
 They muster'd their soldiers by two and by three, 
 And the bravest in battle was Mary Ambree !"
 
 II 
 
 GOUGOU 
 
 You are invited, whatever your age, weight, and girth, 
 to imagine yourself the tenant of Gougou's blue-serge sailor 
 suit, and to think with a brain of five years old, and to 
 maintain your outlook upon the world per medium of two 
 very big grey eyes, their irises smutty-rimmed, their 
 lashes very long and straight, and much darker than 
 Gougou's shining yellow floss-silk hair. 
 
 You are begged to understand that Gougou was so sore 
 of heart because he missed his father. It was not because 
 Shag, the Shetland pony, and Perks, the black poodle, 
 who begged and jumped over sticks and died for the Queen 
 unless he wanted the biscuit too badly to do anything but 
 bark when you showed it him, and Bluff, the big Persian 
 cat, had receded into vast dim distance with the tall, 
 manly figure in the loosely-cut clothes, exhaling a clean, 
 delightful perfume of excellent cigars, and cedar and 
 Russia-leather. It was not because the pictorial train 
 of birds and beasts and insects, surmounting the brown- 
 paper dado of the room in Grannie's house that sometimes 
 served him as a London nursery, offered, in Gougou's 
 opinion, a most despicable substitute of make-believes for 
 the stables at Copselands with their glossy hacks and 
 hunters, the kennels with their setters and pointers, the 
 peacocks on the nagged terrace ; the cranes and mallards 
 and moorhens on the island in the lake, and the pheasants 
 in the home coverts. He wanted the man who had been 
 the axis upon which this loved world of familiar things 
 
 18
 
 GOUGOU 19 
 
 revolved. Once lifted and held in those strong, familiar 
 arms, with his small pink- and- white cheek against the 
 firm, hard, brown one, his slight arm clasped round the 
 dear strong throat, he could have borne those other losses 
 with a question or two and a whimper, it may have been. 
 But to be stripped at once of everything, that made your 
 eyes so dry that they hurt you ; and filled your throat so 
 full of something, you didn't know what ; that you didn't 
 much care whether stewed apricots with cream, or merely 
 Zucker Reis came after the one o'clock roast mutton. 
 
 Fraulein's eyes were red. She explained, to account 
 for their continual and ostentatious tearfulness, that she 
 had a cold. 'Toinette's were, upon the contrary, quite 
 dry ; but she was continually casting them up as she affirmed 
 to Heaven that somebody was an injured angel, and some- 
 body else a monster of wickedness. Gougou would much 
 have liked to know the names of these two people. But 
 when he asked he was called a poor innocent, and he hated 
 that so much that he left off asking. And when he wanted 
 to talk about his father, an invisible hand seemed to force 
 an unseen gag into his mouth, and silence him at a blow. 
 There were other red eyes in the house besides Fraulein's 
 — Purdey, the ancient butler's, and Grannie's. Grannie 
 read her Church Service constantly, and seemed to drink 
 tea all the time, and never by any chance took a small boy 
 to the Hippodrome, or to the Zoo, or to the toyshops, or 
 even into one of the places where you sit at a little marble- 
 topped table and eat lovely cakes, surrounded by other 
 little marble-topped tables, where numbers of ladies and 
 a few gentlemen are doing the same thing ; and a young 
 lady with a marvellous head of hair, who is never the same 
 young lady, but always just like her, comes up and sees at 
 a glance what you have had ; and says with a sweet smile 
 and scarcely any stops, as she tears a little ticket out of 
 a book and hands it over : " Two cups chocol one three
 
 20 GOUGOU 
 
 cream puiis one six one open tart one eight pay at the 
 desk please and thank you, moddam !" 
 
 Hinting was no use. Grannie only closed those red- 
 rimmed eyes and shook her head with the white lace 
 arrangement on the nice white hair slowly from side to 
 side, and said "Not to-day, Gougou, my poor child !" and 
 went on reading her Church Service ; while telegraph boys 
 were ringing and handing in mysterious yellow envelopes, 
 and two grave whiskered gentlemen in black, whose names 
 were Misters Seel and Snelling, and who were usually 
 attended by a trim young man who carried a cowskin bag 
 of documents and waited in the hall, were shut up in the 
 library with Gougou's Mummy. 
 
 That is, they were not always shut up there, but they 
 came every day ; and each day Mummy's eyebrows came 
 nearer each other ; her beautiful blue eyes became harder 
 and more stern, and her mouth shut up closer after she 
 had said anything. All the colour seemed to have been 
 squeezed out of it into the end of her pretty little nose. 
 She wore matter-of-fact tailor-made gowns that did not 
 become her, and black chiffon in the evenings, and Gougou's 
 small soul yearned for the smiling, happy-eyed Mummy 
 of old, clad in the dear delightful garments of dainty texture 
 and delicate colours. Why had they all been left behind 
 at Copselands ? Why had he been waked up in the grey 
 mist of an October morning, and washed and dressed in 
 an awful hurry, and lifted into the big 26 h.-p. Gohard 
 with the landau body, with the final bit of bread-and- 
 butter clasped in one small red hand ? Fraulein had 
 followed, sniffing and saying, " Ach, Gott !" at intervals ; 
 and 'Toinette, with her black eyes shining like those 
 hedge-berries that the birds never eat, and her lips screwed 
 into a tight, shut-up kind of smile, had followed. Mummy, 
 in a big coat of silver fox, had sat beside Nixey, the 
 chauffeur. And Gougou's father had not kissed him good-
 
 GOUGOU 21 
 
 bye, or even stood upon the doorsteps to see them off and 
 wave a hand as the big car hummed out of sight at the 
 turning in the oak avenue. Where was he ? Why did 
 nobody ever mention his name ? Why was it naughty 
 to talk about him, and to want him, when only the other 
 day it had been so utterly right ? Gougou could not, 
 could not understand it ! It was new and horrid, like 
 the hard look in Mummy's blue eyes, Fraulein's sniffs* 
 'Toinette's appeals to Heaven, and the odds and ends of 
 legal phrases that swam like dust-motes in the atmosphere 
 of Grannie's house in Chesterfield Crescent. 
 
 : ' Please, Mummy, can I know what somefing means ?" 
 Gougou had asked one day, after turning one of these odd* 
 incomprehensible phrases over and over inside his little 
 round head until it ached, as though a marble was rolling 
 about there. 
 
 ; ' It depends," said Mummy, in that new voice of hers, 
 that had the ring of a cold, bright crystal tumbler rapped 
 with the sharp edge of a knife-blade of silvered steel, " on 
 what the something is." 
 
 Gougou edged near, shuffling in a sitting position over 
 the Bokhara hearthrug. 
 
 ' Custody-of-ve-sole-offspwing-of-ve-mawwiage,' " he 
 pronounced. " I know," he added, as Grannie uttered 
 a little sound between a groan and a choke, and dropped 
 her Church Service with a plump into her lap, " that 
 ' Custody ' means what ve policemen do to you when vey 
 take you up. Sole offspwing is what flummoxes me." 
 
 " Little boys," said Gramiie, with closed eyes, speaking 
 over the edge of a vinaigrette she sniffed at, " should not 
 use words like flummoxed." 
 
 " Farver says it," stated Gougou, who had been dying 
 to mention that beloved name for days beyond counting, 
 really nearly a week ; and had been prevented by the 
 invisible hand with the gag. Now, however, it was out
 
 22 GOUGOU 
 
 and he was glad of it. He added, with an air of determina- 
 tion that was assumed. " And when I grow up I shall do 
 evwyfing vat my farver does !" 
 
 " Gerald," said Mummy, in the coldest voice Gougou 
 had yet heard, " get up and come here." And Gougou 
 was in the act of looking round for the mysterious Gerald 
 when he remembered, that when his godfathers and god- 
 mothers had promised and vowed, he had been christened 
 by that name. 
 
 " Oh ! you mean me a-course !" he said, and got up and 
 stood before Mummy's knees. He felt so strangely shy 
 that he could not lift his big grey eyes higher than her 
 little chin with the cleft in it. But how like prettily 
 carved marble it looked, that little chin. She turned it 
 a little in the high stiff collar she wore with her tailor- 
 made gown. And her voice had again the ring given out 
 by the cut crystal glass when the silvered steel blade hit it. 
 
 " I mean you. You have asked me a question," said 
 Mummy coldly, " and I am going to answer it." 
 
 " Gertrude ! . . . You surely don't mean ! . . ." began 
 Grannie expostulatingly and emotionally. The cold little 
 cleft chin turned half an inch. The cold bright eyes above 
 dealt Grannie an icy glance. She caught up her Church 
 Service and plunged hurriedly into it. But the purple 
 markers hung the wrong way ; she was reading upside 
 down. Gougou giggled. Then a small soft thumb and 
 finger, with sharp delicate little nails like pink shells, 
 took him nippingly by the ear as by a handle, and turned 
 his face back to his mother's. 
 
 ' You — hurt !" he said in a surprised whisper. 
 
 " You asked me just now," said the ringing crystal 
 voice, " what ' sole offspring ' meant ? I will tell you. 
 You are the sole offspring of my marriage with your father. 
 That is. I have no other child but you. And from hence- 
 forth you are in my custody.'
 
 GOUGOU 23 
 
 :< But ladies can't be policemen," objected Gougou, with 
 soft puckers coming between and over his downy fair 
 eyebrows. 
 
 ' They make excellent detectives, and detectives are 
 a superior kind of police," retorted Gougou's mother, with 
 a steely flash of her blue eyes and the kind of smile that 
 showed her neat little white front teeth, and had no gaiety 
 at all in it. " For instance, 'Toinette has served me very 
 well as a detective." 
 
 " Gertrude ! . . ." wailed Grannie, looking imploringly 
 over her Church Service. " The child can't ! . . . you 
 won't ... it would not be . . ." 
 
 " Allow me," retorted Mummy with a nasty kind of 
 politeness that was worse than being rude, " to know what 
 it is best to say to my son or to leave unsaid." 
 
 Grannie collapsed with a deprecatory whimper. Gougou, 
 with his heart beating in his throat and choking him, made 
 a desperate effort to keep his shy eyelids from falling under 
 the cold, hard gaze that had come back to him, and began : 
 
 " Please, vere is somefing else I want to ask." His 
 mouth dried up and his lips would not keep steady. 
 
 " Go on," said Mummy. 
 
 " I — I am your liokle boy," said Gougou desperately. 
 
 ' But at the same time too big a boy to talk like a 
 baby," observed Mummy, speaking a shade more like the 
 Mummy of Gougou's dear remembrance, and less like the 
 awful new one that had taken the place of the first. " Say 
 ' little,' not ' lickle,' and then you can go on." She pushed 
 back a lock of hair that always would fall over his fore- 
 head and waited. 
 
 " I am your lick — little boy," repeated Gougou obedi- 
 ently. He shook so that he put his hand on Mummy's 
 knee to steady himself, and the dark brown cloth felt 
 rough and unfriendly. " But I am my farver's boy too ! 
 And I want my farver ! Please, where is he ?" A sob
 
 24 GOUGOU 
 
 broke from him, and hot tears ran down his cheeks. He 
 dried them with the cuff of his sailor jumper one after 
 the other, his eyes on the pale, resolute, set face that used 
 to be so soft and kind. 
 
 "I do not know," said Mummy ; and the cold words 
 fell like drops of freezing water on Gougou's heart. ' He 
 is with — with those people whose society he has chosen in 
 preference to mine or yours. We are nothing to him 
 henceforth, and he " 
 
 " Gertrude !" gasped Grannie, blowing her nose with a 
 long, trumpet-like too-too. 
 
 " And he is nothing to us ! " ended Mummy. 
 
 " But how can my farver be miffing," burst out Gougou, 
 " when he is my farver ? I — I — I don't believe vat, 
 anyhow !" 
 
 Mummy leaned back in her chair and looked seemingly 
 through the small rebel into the red fire behind him. 
 
 " Mother, the bell is within reach of your hand. Please 
 ring three times." 
 
 That meant Nurse, downstairs, for Master Gougou. 
 Gougou, anticipating her arrival, hurried to the door- 
 handle. 
 
 " You needn't wing, fanks, Gwannie," he proclaimed, 
 wrestling with the big white porcelain knob. " I'm going 
 upstairs my own self ! " 
 
 Grannie's jewelled hand dropped from the electric-bell 
 stud and sought her damp handkerchief. She blew her 
 nose again, sorrowfully and sonorously. Perhaps it was 
 to conceal the rebellious slamming of the door. Gougou 
 was very glad to be outside it on the black and white 
 marble squares of the big hall, where the Emperor Napoleon 
 the First rode a bronze horse on a gilded pedestal, and 
 the portrait of Gougou's grandfather relieving Lucknow, 
 in white trousers and an immense cocked hat, hung over 
 the white marble mantelpiece in clouds of painted smoke,
 
 GOUGOU 25 
 
 with symmetrical spurts of painted fire, and arms waving 
 swords that were straight or crooked coming out of the 
 clouds and sepoys' heads with white turbans and grinning 
 teeth and rolling black eyes sticking up in the foreground. 
 Grandfather did not look at all the sort of grandfather a 
 little boy would have gone to in trouble ; and Gougou's 
 small nose wrinkled with distaste as he looked up at the 
 redoubtable warrior, whose stony blue eyes stared out 
 from under the cocked hat. 
 
 The hall door was partly open, showing a section of the 
 foggy street, and the big Gohard car that had brought 
 Gougou and Mummy and Fraulein and 'Toinette from 
 dear Copselands was waiting by the kerb, and Nixey, the 
 chauffeur, in his long dark livery overcoat with the white 
 collar and cuffs, was standing on the doorstep talking to 
 Purdey the butler. Neither of the men saw the child 
 behind them. 
 
 " And so that's your opinion !" said Purdey clicking 
 his tongue against the roof of his mouth. " Dear, dear ! 
 Ah, well !" 
 
 " Frogs I never fancied," declared Nixey stoutly. " And 
 that 'Toinette is a deal too clever. So much so, Mr. 
 Purdey, mark my words, that one day she'll find herself 
 inside of four whitewashed walls with a female gaoler to 
 rub the Prison Rules in. And if it came to asking me 
 whether Sir Robert is to blame towards My Lady ? all I 
 have to say is that a man can be drove by nagging and 
 suspiciousness to deliberately make hisself out a deal 
 owdaciouser in his conduct than he really is ; and I dare say 
 you or me, Mr. Purdey, in my master's place, would at 
 this moment be waiting for One Who Shall be Nameless at 
 a Dover hotel which there is no need to specify, supposing 
 our regular domestic arrangements to have been pulled 
 about our ears over a week ago by a 'eadlong action on my 
 lady's part, based on a puffectly groundless suspicion."
 
 26 GOUGOU 
 
 " Dear, dear ! Ah, well !" clicked Purdey. 
 
 " I don't conceal from you," said Nixey, pulling on his 
 thick loose wash-leather gloves and buttoning the strap 
 of his white cloth collar under his lean chin, " that I am 
 on my master's side. I 'ad my instructions from him the 
 morning I brought my lady and the boy and them two 
 cackling women up to town, and I've 'ung about at the 
 garage since, waiting for further orders. Now they're 
 come. My master and She As Shall be Nameless for the 
 present, cross to Calley by the night boat. I go with 'em 
 in charge of the machine, and then run 'em across France 
 by Roohong, Orleens, Boorj, and Leehong to Horange in 
 Provency, where, I understand from her maid, a Certain 
 Person 'as an estate in'erited through her mother, who 
 had in her own right one of them rum-sounding titles that 
 seem to be thought a deal of by foreigners. Sir Robert 
 fired a wire straight off to her when my lady left him, 
 and this is the result. I call for her at Norfolk Street, 
 and take her down to where he's waiting. And then, and 
 not until then, Mr. Purdey, if you'll believe me, my lady'll 
 be the wronged and injured angel she believes herself now ! 
 Thank you, I will take a glass of that apricot brandy of 
 yours before I start, but as I wish to do myself credit with 
 the run, it'll have to be the merest thimbleful !" 
 
 The hall-door swung back as the men entered, hiding 
 a small boy in a blue-serge sailor suit, who retreated as it 
 moved. Nixey stood near it as Purdey went into the 
 dining-room, to return with a s liqueur glass. He did not 
 see the small boy dodge guiltily past the two shining brass 
 buttons that glared from the back of the long-tailed livery 
 coat like indignant eyes. He tossed off his liqueur and 
 shook hands with Purdey, assumed his seat, pulled the 
 lever up, and glided away, unconscious that the landau- 
 limousine contained a passenger. 
 The passenger, who had gleaned from overheard frag-
 
 GOUGOU 27 
 
 ments of the conversation between the chauffeur and the 
 butler enough meaning to inspire the belief that the 
 journey would end at Copselands, found his quarters 
 under the front seat a tight fit even for a small boy. He 
 felt the Gohard stop, recognized the squeak of tightening 
 straps as a box was fastened on behind, knew the door 
 open, inhaled a whiff of delicate perfume, heard a frou- 
 frou of silken linings, and saw a pair of beautiful slender 
 feet in brown silk stockings and daintily buckled walking 
 shoes move towards him upon the fur rug, and cross one 
 over the other. Those pretty feet were his companions 
 for quite half an hour of swift running on the Gohard's 
 part, and then they drew back sharply because Gougou 
 had sneezed. Gougou couldn't have helped that sneeze 
 for anything. It was the pepper in the fur rug. Having 
 sneezed, he made himself as small as possible, hoping the 
 feminine owner of the silk stockings and buckled shoes 
 had not heard. But she had, for the hanging cloth border 
 of the front seat was lifted, and a soft, clear voice said :' 
 " Come out, pussy !" 
 
 " Please," said Gougou in a small, shy voice, ; ' it isn't 
 a lickle cat. It's a lickle boy !" 
 
 There was a pause of astonishment, and then the soft 
 voice said, with a little shake of laughter in it : 
 
 " Come out, little boy, and tell me who you are, and 
 why you are hiding here V 
 ' " Veway well !" said Gougou resignedly. 
 
 And he crawled out, very warm and breathless, and 
 with cramp in his left knee. His big smutty-rimmed eyes 
 looked up at the face that bent over him. And he loved 
 something that he saw there. The face was pale and the 
 dark eyes were full of sorrow and of weariness, and the 
 mouth was infinitely sweet. She was wrapped in a great 
 mantle of sables and wore a toque of velvet trimmed with 
 the sable tails. Her black hair clung in damp waves to
 
 28 GOUGOU 
 
 her forehead as she put back her silk veil and stared at 
 the boy, who exclaimed in a voice that wobbled with the 
 effort not to be shy : 
 
 " I'm not exactly where I haven't any business ! Vis 
 is my farver's car, and when I heard Nixey talk to Purdey 
 about going to my farver, I fought I would cweep in and 
 hide, so as to be tooked without Nixey 's knowing anyfing." 
 He rubbed a tear out of his eye with his cuff. ' Because 
 I haven't seen my farver for ever and ever so long. 
 And " 
 
 cc 
 
 And it hurt " She took him in her arms and 
 
 leaned her cheek down upon his hair. " I understand ! 
 But what is it you heard Nixey say ? And who is Purdey ? ' ' 
 
 Gougou, leaning against the soft furs, enveloped in 
 warmth and fragrance and a tenderness that was made 
 manifest by every look and touch and word of the lady 
 of the buckled shoes, explained as best he might, with a 
 sniff here and there, and once a splash of tears. To be 
 sole offspring in the custody of Mummy, farver swallowed 
 up, beyond all hope of recovery, in those vague quick- 
 sands in which dear Copselands, and Shag the Shetland 
 pony, with Perks the poodle and Bluff the Persian cat had 
 also been engulfed, was too dreadful to be endured. Per- 
 haps if his Gougou got to see him and explained, things 
 might take the jo}rful turn ? If not, Gougou didn't know 
 how a little boy was going to bear it ; and, in his opinion, 
 She Who Must Be Nameless was very unkind. But per- 
 haps she didn't understand what it meant to have your 
 farver taken away ! That was it. She hadn't under- 
 stood. . . 
 
 The car sped onwards — the grime of London long left 
 behind. The broad, smooth high road ran between brown 
 hedges, crimson now with the sparrows' winter store. 
 Mist hung over the fallows and plough-lands. Beeches 
 and elms showered down their leaves. Horse-chestnuts
 
 GOUGOU 29 
 
 dropped ripe nuts from the burst sheath, and yellow fans, 
 and the smell of decaying vegetation rose up in faint, 
 sweet whiffs as the car flew on. Gougou leaned his head 
 back against the lady and grew sleepy. He felt the white, 
 soft, jewelled hand touch his cheek as the lady pushed 
 aside the sable mantle and drew the sleepy head against 
 her breast. He felt a long, soft kiss upon his lips, and 
 then knew nothing more. 
 
 He wakened in semi-darkness as the car stopped before 
 the wide glass-doored entrance of the Dover Hotel. His 
 head was pillowed on a great sable muff, a bunch of violets 
 was pinned to the front of his little blue-serge jumper. 
 He could feel the cool, soft flowers and smell their sweet 
 fragrance. Then the door opened. He jumped up with 
 a cry of joy, and flung himself on the tall, broad-shouldered 
 figure in the well-known loose tweed clothes, and hugged 
 the strong neck and cried, covering the tanned face with 
 eager kisses. 
 
 " Farver ! farver !" 
 
 " My God ! it's the boy !" said farver's voice, as Nixey's 
 spare figure and lean face and peaked cap showed in the 
 blue-white glare of the electric standards at the hotel 
 entrance. " And she ! . . . Where is she 1 What has 
 happened ?" 
 
 11 I'm not to blame, Sir Robert," quavered Nixey. 
 " Mrs. Arbuthnot got out at Charing. She said something 
 had been forgotten in the 'aste of her arrangements, and 
 that she must return by train ; and that she had written 
 a note, and Master Gougou was to give it to his father. 
 Upon my soul, sir " 
 
 The note was scrawled in pencil on half a sheet of letter- 
 paper and had been pinned with the bunch of violets on 
 Gougou's serge jumper. Gougou's father read the note, 
 standing in the blue-white radiance of the hotel lamps, 
 and his face was as the. face of one dead ; only the deep fold
 
 30 GOUGOU 
 
 between bis eyebrows, and the deep lines at the corners 
 of his mouth, and the burning grey eyes that devoured 
 those pencilled lines belonged to a living man in bitter 
 pain. 
 
 "7 could have taken your wife's husband away from her 
 without a fang of remorse" ran the scrawl, "6wf I cannot 
 rob your boy of his father ! Please do not write to me or 
 attempt to see me. I am determined we shall not meet 
 again /" 
 
 And she kept her word.
 
 Ill 
 
 THE MAN IN THE WOODS AND FORESTS 
 
 The desire to love, cherish, protect, and supply the eldest 
 Miss Wiltshire with all the comforts of civilization and 
 all the luxuries of refinement, drove Brydon Janes, a very 
 worthy young man with large feet, into the wilderness. 
 Fort-villas, Portsdown-road, Southsea, Hants, was the 
 address of the Paradise where dwelt his Eve. He had 
 spent his three probationary years — two at Oxford Uni- 
 versity and one in the forests of the Continent — by the 
 consent of the English Government, and at his own expense. 
 Being selected under the Regulations to serve in the Forest 
 Department of India as Assistant-Conservator at Rs. 
 4,000 per annum, he knew himself to be a made man. 
 He would win advancement by much striving, become a 
 full Conservator and head of a Department, and then 
 return home to claim the eldest Miss Wiltshire as his 
 bride. 
 
 Etta was drowned hi tears when Brydon Janes departed. 
 She did not dry them until the rickety four-wheeler that 
 contained her beloved had turned out of the Portsdown- 
 road, and her younger sister — a girl of tender years and 
 sharp intelligence — said, warningly : 
 
 ' You'll have a red nose at the Eastney ball to-night if 
 you don't blow it and stop crying, Etta !" 
 
 The eldest Miss Wiltshire looked in the glass, and took 
 the advice. She did no more crying, but danced her white 
 satin shoes into holes with great goodwill. Bry don's 
 cheap yellow deck-shoes burst like over-ripe oranges ere 
 
 31
 
 32 THE MAN IN THE WOODS AND FORESTS 
 
 the P. and O. s.s. Rangore anchored off Ballard Pier, and 
 the launch came fussing out for -the passengers and their 
 hand-baggage. But his heart, which was not of cheap 
 Tottenham Court Road make, was staunchly loyal to the 
 distant Miss Wiltshire. In his stuffy 15R bungalow in 
 a steaming hot village in the Central Provinces, where he 
 wrought under the rule of Deasy, the Conservator, and 
 helped to control a division containing four districts and 
 nine tributary States covered with primeval forest and 
 immemorial tiger-jungle, inhabited by aboriginal Sonthals 
 and Khonds, he tasted the heady wine of power. And 
 he was not unhappy. Every week's mail brought him a 
 letter from Etta and took one to her from him. It was 
 only when fresh photographs arrived, and he recognized 
 by the altered fashion of Etta's dress and the strange new 
 modes in which she dressed her hair, how swiftly Time was 
 passing, that he knew disquiet, and paced the verandah 
 instead of sleeping in his cot or working at the office-table 
 whereon he burned the midnight oil. He was never the 
 man to change, the prematurely-faded portraits that he 
 forwarded to Fort- villas showed nothing new. Perhaps 
 his good, dull eyes had learned to look keenly at his new 
 world, his once slack mouth had gained lines of decision, 
 just as his hands had hardened by constant use of rein, 
 rifle, and revolver, and his thighs had acquired the muscular 
 grip of the accustomed rider to whom saddle and stirrups 
 are not the essential things about a horse. But the eyes 
 that scanned the spotty sun-pictures saw only the old 
 Brydon. The man who had kissed Etta two years, four 
 years, seven years ago, and whom she had promised to 
 marry when he should have earned enough to support a 
 wife, was not capable of improvement in her eyes. His 
 poverty galled her for him ; she hid the cheap gifts that 
 came from him away, lest sneering eyes should appraise 
 their worthlessness.
 
 THE MAN IN THE WOODS AND FORESTS 33 
 
 ' You know the shabby little turquoise ring with the three 
 bad green stones, that was Etta's engagement ring ?" said 
 the youngest Miss Wiltshire, now eighteen, and out, in con- 
 fidence to one of her newest friends. " Well, she has covered 
 it up with another she bought at Liberty's, that is three times 
 the size, and cost half her dress-allowance for the year ; and 
 she never blinked when grandmamma praised Brydon's 
 generosity in sending the new ring ; and don't you think it 
 looks as if " 
 
 ;< It looks as if the Man in India — the Man in the Woods 
 and Forests — who never comes home," said the friend, who 
 was unimaginative, " was going to hear before long that 
 Etta is tired of playing the waiting game !" 
 
 Possibly Etta was. She had met scores of better-looking, 
 better-bred, better-off men than Brydon Janes during the 
 last seven years, and had refused three or four proposals 
 on the score of a previous engagement. She was never with- 
 out an admirer in tow, and her ball programme was scrawled 
 with pencilled names from the first square to the last extra 
 long before the rickety brougham turned in at the Dockyard, 
 or passed the barrack-gates, or drew up at the wide doorway 
 of the Naval College, or halted under the edge of the shabby, 
 striped awning that goes up in front of the Assembly Hall on 
 dance-nights. She never missed a tennis-match, golf -club tea 
 or luncheon, garden-party or picnic. She took all the gloves 
 and trinkets she could get, but she never wrote out to Jali 
 Wudar, in the Central Provinces, to say that she had changed 
 her mind and wished to be released from her engagement. 
 Her letters were invariably the same, beginning " My 
 Dearest," and ending " Ever your own," and Brydon kept 
 them with naphthaline crystals in a tin hat-box for their 
 preservation from the white ants. His own epistles we 
 stereotyped effusions — the same well-worn references to 
 people, stale jests, and homely expressions of affection ap- 
 peared over and over again — only the envelopes \i ere different. 
 
 3
 
 34 THE MAN IN THE WOODS AND FORESTS 
 
 Sometimes these were musty and mildew-speckled from the 
 rains ; other times they were crackly and yellow from sun and 
 dust. The greasy mark of the post-runner's cleft-stick was 
 upon some. Once the wrapper was dabbled with dried blood. 
 That was the night of the raid on the bungalow of the Assis- 
 tant-Conservator, whose little battered English-made cash- 
 box was supposed to contain wealth untold ; riches well worth 
 much expensive outlay of palm-oil on the part of predatory 
 Khonds. 
 
 " ' One of the beggars got shot, inluckily !' " wrote the 
 Assistant-Conservator, " ' and my writing-table and blotting - 
 book (the one you gave me) got rather messed up, and I hope 
 you will excuse this ; until the new consignment of stationery 
 arrives at the station'nary an envelope is to be had.' ' 
 
 " Oh, why will he try to pun ?" groaned the youngest Miss 
 Wiltshire, as Etta read this out. 
 
 " I think Brydon has a good deal of humour," said Etta 
 musingly. She continued to read : 
 
 " ' Luckil they did not get off with my cash-box, all 
 your photographs are in it. I am sending your mother a 
 teapot by this mail ; the figure on the fid is Loha Pennou, 
 the Tiger god, a very popular deity out here.' . . ." 
 
 " I decline to drink tea out of anything so horrible !" 
 announced Mrs. Wiltshire, with a rebellious clash of knitting- 
 needles. 
 
 " But I shall tell Brydon you are delighted with the tea- 
 pot," said the eldest Miss Wiltshire, holding her handsome 
 head very high. 
 
 " Isn't it time we all made an end of pretending to like 
 things we don't really want or care for ?" asked the youngest 
 Miss Wiltshire suddenly. You can hear the dull thud of the 
 bombshell dropped by the daring girl into the family circle, 
 the crackle of the Major's newspaper as he suddenly lowers 
 it, the gasp of the mother petrified over her needlas, the 
 sputter of the fuse as it glows and goes out. For the eldest
 
 THE MAN IN THE WOODS AND FORESTS 35 
 
 Miss Wiltshire, without turning a hair, continued to read 
 the letter : 
 
 " ' By my sitting tight here and sticking to things, what 
 we both hope for may be gained in the long-run. When 
 Deasy retires I see a fair prospect of promotion, and then, in 
 
 five or six years ' There is a little bit here that is meant 
 
 only for me," said the eldest Miss Wiltshire calmly. 
 
 " Five or six years — five or six — I am sick of his hopes and 
 his promises !" bewailed Mrs. Wiltshire ; " and if you were 
 my true flesh and blood, Etta, my ow-own daughter, you 
 would sicken of them too. It's beyond the patience of 
 human nature ! and I pray Heaven " 
 
 " Hold your d d tongue, Arabella," growled the Major, 
 
 over the top of the Hampshire Courier, and Arabella obeyed. 
 That night, as the youngest Miss Wiltshire confined her 
 pretty fair hair in unnecessary curling-pins, her elder sister 
 surprised her by sweeping into the shabby little bedroom and 
 sitting down imperially on the narrow bed. 
 
 " I want to speak to you, Gerty. You think me a fool for 
 not breaking off my engagement to Brydon Janes. So does 
 mother ; so does father ; so does everybody ; perhaps I do 
 myself. But I hope God will help me to go on being a fool ! 
 It is better," she said — the handsome head still very erect — 
 " to be a fool than a traitor. And Brydon never dreams that 
 I could be one. Perhaps " — she bit her lips sharply — " that 
 has kept me from being one. Now, good-night ; I am going 
 for a long drive with Captain McOrdle, of the Royal Kail- 
 shires, in his new motor-car to-morrow, and I want to borrow 
 your silk scarf-veil. That is why I came." 
 
 Captain McOrdle was the son of the Scots millionaire jam- 
 boiler whose preserves have found their certain way into the 
 bosom of English domestic life. His motor-car — " a cool 
 eight hundred, dear boy, minus the canopy and nickel fittings " 
 — his horses, his dogs, his guns and hunters, were discussed 
 and re-discussed by men at clubs, in Fleet ward-rooms and
 
 36 THE MAN IN THE WOODS AND FORESTS 
 
 Garrison mess-rooms, while his flirtations, engagements, 
 intrigues, served women Avith an inexhaustible fund of inter- 
 esting gossip and a never-failing opportunity for emulation. 
 He had danced eight times at the last Marine Artillery ball 
 with the eldest Miss Wiltshire, and, to his astonishment, had 
 emerged from the palm-shaded corners of the seductive corri- 
 dor as unkissed as Gladstone Dowie. This kindled his pride, 
 knowing himself a big fish, and he stooped perforce to woo. 
 He invited the unrcluctant goddess to drive in the palatial 
 locomotive, and learned in one of the ferny chalk lanes of 
 Havant that even did he seek in marriage the empty hand 
 of the eldest Miss Wiltshire, it could not bo bis ; she was 
 engaged to a man in India whom she did not intend to throw- 
 over. She said so — this woman of thirty, who had waited 
 ten years. 
 
 "Not even if / asked you ?" the Captain murmured, in 
 tones as sweet as the paternal jam. The automobile was 
 running smoothly down between the high, steep banks as 
 he spared his left hand from the driving-wheel to encroach 
 upon Miss Wiltshire's waist, and as she shook her handsome 
 head and moved discouragingly away, the accident occurred. 
 The gradient had steepened, the driver had lost control, 
 bis furious attempt to brake jammed a lever, the machine 
 charged the bank at a dangerous curve where the hollow 
 red pyramid topped its post in official warning. McOrdle 
 was thrown into a ploughed field, breaking his collarbone ; 
 as he sprawled amongst the green wheat one may leave him 
 there without questioning his reflections. Turn we to the 
 eldest Miss Wiltshire, who lay still, with the costly car 
 upon her ; and when they took her back to the shabb}^ 
 family villa in the Portsdown Road — for with what voice 
 she had she ordered those who found her to carry her hoi 
 — she did not stop there twenty-four hours. 
 
 But before she went she gave private orders to the 
 youngest Mi Wiltshire : " Don't snivel, Gerty, you stupid!
 
 THE MAN IN THE WOODS AND FORESTS 37 
 
 but do exactly as I say. Keep this a secret until he has 
 what he hopes for. Don't kill the courage in him while 
 he has promotion to win. When he has won it, then you 
 shall tell him ! If you disobey, you little donkey, I'll 
 haunt you if I can ! . . . Now the Vicar can come, if he 
 likes, and the rest of them, but it seems such a fuss about 
 nothing !" 
 
 So died the eldest Miss Wiltshire, who must have had a 
 Roman drop in her blue veins, and the youngest Miss 
 Wiltshire undertook to write to " that man," and relieve 
 the family of his deceased fiancee of a duty they ardently 
 longed to shirk. 
 
 It was the youngest Miss Wiltshire who opened the next 
 letter from Jali Wudar, in the Central Provinces. The 
 envelope was not stained, like the last, but it was of a 
 different texture to the paper Brydon Janes had always 
 written on. Even his handwriting seemed different — 
 smaller, younger, and more clear — but the youngest Miss 
 Wiltshire might be mistaken. 
 
 " The forests are improving greatly ; there has been a 
 record maowah harvest. The elephants and the herbiv- 
 orous animals, some of the birds, and most of the insects 
 are gorging gloriously, and the wild men join in the debauch 
 with the wild creatures, and get most royally drunk. Of 
 the white velvety flowers, exhaling a heavenly perfume, 
 they distil a heady kind of arrack that smells far enough 
 from heavenly to make a Khond hold his nose — and the 
 Ivhond nose is not a sensitive organ, let me tell you. ..." 
 
 Where were the laboured jests, the stale allusions familiar 
 to the youngest Miss Wiltshire since her pigtailed days ? 
 A new breath had blown upon the writer. His eyes saw 
 new things, and his brain dis tilled them, drop by drop, 
 upon the paper : 
 
 >; You will be glad to hear that I have sold my Grammar 
 and Vocabulary of the Sonthal dialect to a lirni of pub-
 
 38 THE MAN IN THE WOODS AND FORESTS 
 
 lishers in Calcutta for quite a respectable sum. I am 
 drawing up a special Report of the Kalua Forest for the 
 Nizam. Two hundred native wood-cutters and toddy- 
 collectors were killed by king-cobras there last season. 
 This is the great green Hamadryad, most glorious of 
 reptiles, which they say was the original Snake of Eden, 
 only instead of grovelling under the Curse, this brute goes 
 upright, a full half of him reared above earth, and before he 
 strikes he spits ! a jet of clear poison, thick as glycerine — 
 deadly where there happens to be a scratch upon the 
 skin. . . ." 
 
 " I don't know what has happened to him," said the 
 youngest Miss Wiltshire. "He is changed in some way, 
 and I like the change." 
 
 " I remembered," went on the writer, " that this ought to 
 be a love-letter when I had nearly finished the sheet. . . . 
 What ought one to put in a love-letter, b}' rights ? The 
 essence of the mauve-and-rose of the sunset, and the 
 mocking-bird's bul-bul note. The perfume of tuberose 
 and jessamine, and the sweetness of all the songs that 
 lovers sing to the sitar under the Indian moon." 
 
 " Now he is trying to be poetioal and literary," inter- 
 polated the youngest Miss Wiltshire, " and I think ' Janes 
 on Cobras ' is better reading." 
 
 " I hope that will do for her," said young Dick Kirwin, 
 the man who had tried to be literary and poetical, and 
 who was acting as Assistant-Conservator in the place of 
 Brydon Janes, violently deceased some months before. 
 " I've given her a slice or so out of what Pepys called ' My 
 Diurnall,' and ended with a squeeze of Housman and water. 
 What business had poor old Janes to strap such a burden 
 on my back just because he was dying here all alone of blood- 
 poisoning from the wound of a Khond's filthy copper- 
 bladed knife, and couldn't bear the middle-aged girl he had 
 been engaged to since the year one to be told the truth %
 
 THE MAN IN THE WOODS AND FORESTS 39 
 
 But he must have known it would come out some day. . . . 
 Under any circumstances my handwriting is decenter than 
 his was. Wonder she's such a fool !" 
 
 He grumbled like this, but he went on writing every 
 mail, and grew to like the replies. They were much 
 younger than the writer, judging by the half-dozen or so of 
 photographs that had lain at the bottom of the battered 
 cash-box, and which Kirwin had sent home to the relatives 
 of Brydon Janes with the other effects of the dead man. 
 They suggested saucy blue eyes, and an impertinent, tip- 
 tilted nose, and a willowy figure — all three things really 
 pertaining to the personality of the youngest Miss Wiltshire. 
 Upon her side she put the vision of Brydon Janes as she 
 had known him, totally from her, and decked an imaginary 
 countenance with a dark moustache and bright brown eyes 
 to match. The figure supporting the countenance was 
 slight and well-knit, middle-sized and young. 
 
 Fate was kinder to the successor of Brydon Janes than 
 it had been to Brydon. Deasy retired on a pension within 
 two years, and R. Kirwin, Esq., compiler of the Grammar 
 and Vocabulary of the Sonthal Dialect, the man who had 
 drawn up the Kalua Forest Report for the Nizam, and had 
 made a study of the habitat of the king-cobra, stepped easily 
 into his superior's shoes, as the dead man never could have 
 done. As Full Conservator, with the praises of the Depart- 
 ment sounding in his ears, he drew his first quarter's salary. 
 Upon Rs. 12,000 per annum a man may marry, but he 
 would take leave and go home first, and look about him. 
 They were very glad to see him in the Earl's Court Road, 
 but before he had been there a week he ran down to 
 Southsea. " Rather a painful duty to perform in con- 
 nection with a poor woman, who is — a — er — relative of the 
 man who was my predecessor at Jali Wudar. Think I'd 
 better get it off my chest before I settle down, mater !" 
 
 " Go, dear, of course !" said she ; and Mr. Richard Kirwin
 
 40 THE MAN IN THE WOODS AND FORESTS 
 
 went, sent in his card at Fort Villas, and asked to see " Miss 
 Wilts hire." Great Scott ! When the woman came, she 
 was a girl — a girl ! Slight, with blue eyes and wavy fair 
 locks, and the tip-tilted nose that against the evidence of 
 the photographs he had ascribed to his correspondent — 
 Etta Wiltshire. 
 
 " I am the only Miss Wiltshire left. Two of us are 
 married, and Etta died — that was more than two years 
 ago. Did you want to see her — to give a — a message from 
 — from anybody — who — does not know that she is dead ? 
 Oh, Mr. Kinvin, if you are his friend, you will understand 
 why she wished him never to be told until he had got his 
 promotion !" 
 
 " He was promoted more than two years ago," said the 
 young man, who had come to break the long-delayed news 
 of Brydon Janes's death to Ins sweetheart. " He died of a 
 wound — he got it the night dacoits came after his cash- 
 box. It is awfully sad " 
 
 " It is not sad at all !" said the j^oungest Miss Wiltshire, 
 with wet eyes, " at least, not for Etta and Brydon. They 
 had waited so patiently . . . they died within a week of each 
 other. Etta must have laughed for joy, I think, to find 
 him there, upon the Other Side — for I know, I know that 
 they have met." 
 
 " They have met," said Dick Kirwin stoutly, as he held 
 her hands across those two graves, " and so have we." 
 
 The youngest Miss Wiltshire did not attempt to deny a 
 fact so obvious.
 
 IV 
 HOW FARLINGBY FLEW 
 
 Aviation, that infectious disease of the New Century, had 
 broken out with violence in Hopshire. An extensive 
 expanse of arable land, devoted during the greater part of 
 the year to the culture of the profitable hop, offered a 
 peculiarly advantageous site for a temporary flying-ground. 
 The county, spurred by the feverish activities of Farlingby, 
 elected a Committee of Management, and appointed the 
 enthusiast Honorary Secretary. 
 
 Funds rolled in to swell the ' rize List, an Official Pro- 
 gramme of Events was compile- a really neat and effective 
 set of Rules drawn up. It was only when Farlingby rose 
 in protest against the clause that prohibited subscribers 
 and members of Committee from competing, that the 
 President, Lord Potterby, and his fellow-landholders 
 realized what a presumptuous ass they had hitherto regarded 
 as an intelligent, fairly presentable, highly eligible young 
 man. 
 
 Farlingby, in brief, announced his intention of enter- 
 ing his own home-made monoplane, Ladybug, owner up, 
 for the Highest Flight. If a man be admittedly not a 
 prophet in his own country, still less is he an aviator in his 
 own county. And that Farlingby should thus seek to 
 elevate himself above the level of his social equals was, as 
 Lord Potterby very appropiately expressed it, a discovery 
 painfully calculated to lower him in their esteem. 
 
 The prize for the Highest Flight was a silver shaving- 
 basin containing a cheque for £500. Farlingby 's ambitious 
 
 11
 
 42 HOW FARLINGBY FLEW 
 
 determination to compete for the possession of these might 
 have earned the additional stigma of greed if the young 
 man had not himself put up the money. This fact, with the 
 additional arguments of Farlingby's having largely sub- 
 scribed towards the expenses of the meeting, and being the 
 proprietor of the considerable area of arable devoted to 
 flying, resulted in the objectionable clause being blotted 
 from the minutes. 
 
 The faces of Lord Potterby and his brother magnates 
 afforded a study in disgust as Farlingby's agile pen per- 
 formed its task. The Rural Dean permitted himself a 
 gentle sarcasm as he helped himself, with his handsomest 
 Early Victorian manner, to a pinch of snuff. 
 
 " I — humph ! — woidd venture to suggest that Mr. 
 Farlingby should — humph ! — also enter for the Potterby 
 Consolation Award of fifty pounds, generously offered — 
 humph ! — by his lordship* our President, for the benefit of 
 the competitor who shall — humph ! — sustain the severest 
 casualty to his own personal framework in the — humph ! — 
 noble struggle for the mastery of air." 
 
 It is doubtful whether Farlingby heard. He squeezed 
 the blotting-pad over the official paper, and his thoughtful 
 eye glided over the polished hemisphere of Lord Potterby's 
 bald crown without noticing the crimson hue Avhich had 
 mounted from the President's large face to his forehead, 
 and now swamped the bump of benevolence in a rush of 
 seething indignation as the old gentleman spluttered : 
 
 " The fellow's skull's cracked already, past mending, hang 
 me if it isn't ! And what I say is " — his lordship addressed 
 himself to the secretary — " if your good father, my late 
 partner in the firm of Farlingby and Grains, could have 
 heard the boy he piled up money for, announcing his inten- 
 tion of ranking himself with the pack of da — of blessed 
 atmospherical acrobats who're turning everybody's heads 
 with their hairbreadth escapes and record flights, he'd —
 
 HOW FARLINGBY FLEW 43 
 
 he'd be sorry he died and left him co- proprietor in the 
 Brewery !" 
 
 There was a rolling back of chairs — Farlingby's chairs — 
 round the twenty-foot long Jacobean table in Farlingby's 
 dining-room. The Committee looked at their watches, 
 and broke up. Presently they rolled away down the long 
 avenue in the vehicles that had brought them — automobiles, 
 landaus, broughams, dog - carts, the Dean's aged cob 
 waxing frisky at the snorting motor-cycle of Habbets, the 
 local attorney. But Lord Potterby remained to say his 
 say, and said it. 
 
 ' You've lowered yourself, lowered yourself, in my 
 opinion, young man ! Put yourself on a level with people 
 who sing and people who act, and people who paint, and 
 people who write novels, and people who run, and jump 
 and swim, and row, for money, sir, for money ! Granted 
 the money's your own, the theory's the same. And what I 
 say is " — the indignant peer smote the three-hundred 
 guinea Jacobean oak table resoundingly — " I'm disgusted ! 
 Dis-gusted ! And — though I was damned angry with my 
 girl Ethel when she went as much against my own desire as 
 your father's testamentary wishes — and said, plump and 
 plain, she wouldn't marry such a gaby as Dicky Farlingby 
 for nuts ! — I'll allow she was right to a tick, or the price- 
 ticket of the handsomest row of pearls Piffamy ever strung 
 together, and I'll wire him to send a shopman down with 
 'em on my way home." 
 
 This was frightful, but Farlingby, though doubly wrung 
 by the cruel utterance of his charmer, and the defection of 
 the paternal ally, was able, upon repairing to the gym- 
 nasium he had converted into a workshop, there to find 
 comfort in contemplating the newly varnished bamboo- 
 and-steel-rod framowork of the Ladybug, whose ' Ananzi ' 
 engine worked, according to the mechanic in charge, as 
 " smooth as cream."
 
 44 HOW FARLINGBY FLEW 
 
 A day or two later Farlingby's absorption in his winged 
 and humming piece of mechanism rendered him uncon- 
 scious of the approach of a being whose lightest footfall had 
 previously possessed the power to thrill his being. The 
 Hon. Ethel Grains, only child and heiress of Lord Potterby, 
 looked in upon him in his workshop. Her clear voice 
 behind him made him jump in his oily blue overalls as she 
 said : 
 
 " I see you're up to your withers here in preparation for 
 the big event. Say if I'm in the way, won't you ? I just 
 looked in to see how things were going." 
 
 Usually at the sight of the Honourable Ethel, Farlingby's 
 stock of self-possession deserted him. So poor-spirited and 
 unoriginal was the young man that his desire jumped with 
 the paternal wishes. His large projecting ears would 
 redden, his blue eyes would become vague and misty, his 
 ideas would be churned to buttermilk by the pounding 
 dasher of his heart, his voice would wobble in the enuncia- 
 tion of the coldest commonplace. But, as the Ananzi 
 engine purred, and the nickel propeller vanished in a mist 
 of uncountable revolutions, the inventor forgot his mistress 
 in contemplation of his machine, and took the first upward 
 step in the lady's estimation. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Ethel ! Of course, I'm more than 
 delighted to see you. For Heaven's sake be careful ! . . . 
 Your shoulder's touching my left wing !" 
 
 Farlingby's mild, preoccupied frown had given place to 
 a glare of anxiety as he sprang to investigate for possible 
 injury. A gasp of relief escaped him as he ascertained 
 that the light steel-tube-framed, canvas-covered pinion 
 of his darling Lady buy was perfectly intact. Her 
 bicycle-wheels leaned up in a corner, awaiting attachment 
 to the frame, her india-rubber air-box was being fitted in 
 its place above the double tail-planes by Farlingby's 
 mechanic-assistant. And as the air-draught created by
 
 HOW FARLINGBY FLEW 45 
 
 the revolutions of the propeller fanned the lank, light hair 
 of the would-be aviator back from a brow the Honourable 
 Ethel had disparagingly stigmatized as " bumpy," she 
 admitted with a revulsion of repentance that it was his 
 best feature, after all ! and, taking leave, steered her 
 42 h.p. Dragette homewards in a series of hairbreadth 
 escapes, unobserved b3^ herself, but painfully trying to the 
 nerves of the chauffeur. 
 
 Farlingby completed his machine, and, after putting her 
 to divers secret, black, and midnight tests upon the flying- 
 ground, felt himself nerved with sufficient confidence in 
 Ladybug to support the openly-expressed doubts of club 
 acquaintances and county neighbours as to his sanity. 
 The day of the meeting saw the brown, carefully-levelled 
 acres of the flying-ground blackened by huge crowds of 
 would - be sightseers ; the elite of Hopshire society 
 thronged the canvas-screened visitors' enclosure, and filled 
 the grand-stands to overflowing ; the Yeomanry Band, 
 occupying an elegantly decorated pavilion, opened the 
 programme with the overture to the " Flying Dutchman." 
 Then, upon the stroke of one, three engines simultaneously 
 whirred and clattered ; three aeroplanes of characteris- 
 tically different patterns issued amidst deafening cheers 
 from the sheds, scuttling along upon their widely-distant 
 bicycle-wheels with the gait of leggy, impossible, pre- 
 historic insects ; and the programme of events had begun 
 in good earnest. 
 
 M. Schiff, of Antwerp, who finds that steering an aero- 
 uc is as simple as driving a sewing-machine, was, per- 
 haps, (ho star of the galaxy assembled for the occasion. 
 Events innumerable have been pulled off by the dauntless 
 Schiff. But upon this occasion, in mild May weather, 
 with sunshine to prevent the coagulation of lubricating-oil.
 
 46 HOW FARLINGBY FLEW 
 
 with breezes to buoy up the structure of his celebrated 
 biplane, the dauntless Schiff failed to rise from the 
 ground. 
 
 The Marchese Gallonini Popoli, one of the Italian 
 pioneers of aviation, had entered for the opening long- 
 distance trial with the celebrated original model machine 
 of box-kite pattern upon which he won the great Campagna 
 prize of 80,000 lire. But in vain did the Italian noble 
 essay to abandon the element referred to by an excited 
 old lady as " terra-cotta." His giant box-kite declined 
 upon any terms to soar. 
 
 It was just the same with M. le Baron Jourdain, of 
 Villerville. Himself weighing three hundred pounds, and 
 carrying one hundred litres of petrol in addition to his wife, 
 a lady of robust physique and incipient moustache, 
 M. Jourdain has won the suffrages of all aero sportsmen by 
 his daring flights upon the Petite Demoiselle triplane of his 
 own invention, which travels like an express train against 
 winds of high velocity, and leaves in the wake of its 60 h.p. 
 Dedale engine a well-developed cyclone. 
 
 Sacred corpse of a pig ! Norn d'un petit bonhomme ! 
 Petite Demoiselle, holder of three world's records, rose in 
 air amidst the acclamations of assembled Hopshire, only 
 to reach an inconsiderable altitude of thirty feet, and flop 
 like an exhausted giant cockchafer back upon the stony 
 bosom of perfidious Albion, smashing a blade of her 
 aluminium propeller, buckling a front wheel, crumpling 
 her hindmost flying-plane as completely as a bandbox, 
 and snapping the collar-bone of her indignant owner. 
 Madame la Baronne fortunately fell upon her toque, a 
 Parisian creation of density equalling its magnitude, thus 
 sustaining no injury. 
 
 Event succeeded event ; competitor after competitor 
 failed to rise, and, as the afternoon waned, a deadly flatness, 
 a wet blanket of depression, settled upon the immense
 
 HOW FARLINGBY FLEW 47 
 
 pack of spectators. Luncheon brought relief, but the mer- 
 cury dropped again when the refreshment-interval was 
 over. The public had paid to see men win prizes for 
 flying ; and up to the present, with the exception of the 
 strapped and bandaged Baron, who had undeniably 
 qualified for the Potterby consolation-award, no man had 
 offered the public any return for its outlay. 
 
 The first after-luncheon event upon the card was the 
 contest for the possession of the silver shaving-dish and 
 the five-hundred-guinea cheque. The languid interest of 
 the mass of spectators quickened as Lieutenant Balda- 
 lara of the Basque Carabineers, the well-known member 
 of the Cercle Aeronautique, dashed from his concealing 
 shed, mounted on his famous flyer, and, urged from behind 
 by three muscular assistants, shot forwards, palpably 
 reared, and — rose gracefully into the air. The Yeomanry 
 Band rushed into the Basque National Hymn, every bosom 
 swelled with enthusiasm, every neck was cricked to anguish, 
 and every eye strained in the pursuit of the soaring 
 Carabineer. 
 
 An instant later the Ladybug, her owner up, jolted 
 througn the rolled-back doors of her shelter, and, trundled 
 by the mechanic who was Farlingby's handyman and 
 jack-of-all-trades, made her debut. . . . Ladybug, then 
 only existent in the original example, was a queer-looking 
 machine, and to-day, when thousands of reproductions 
 are being turned out to supply the increasing public 
 demand for a strong reliable skyster, is not one whit 
 less so. We know how the low-comedy entrance of the 
 Clown into the Ring, mounted upon his grotesquely piebald 
 donkey, follows upon the stately appearance of the glossy 
 blood chestnut, bearing the dazzling exponent of the 
 haute ecole, and evokes in an instant, upon the heels of 
 the reverberating thunder-roll of admiring approbation, a 
 oar of Homeric laughter.
 
 48 HOW FARLINGBY FLEW 
 
 Hopshire, sadly in need of comic relief np to the moment 
 roared itself purple in the face at the appearance of Far- 
 lingby, dressed in a tweed cycling-suit of cheerful green - 
 and-chocolate chequers, wearing his inevitable pink button- 
 hole carnation, spectacles, a peaked yellow leather cap, 
 and gaiters matching the cap ; and perched behind the 
 revolving nickel antennse of the Ladybug in the 
 cramped attitude affected by the little jockey who crouche 
 on the withers of the tall, leggy racehorse. Only, our 
 Farlingby's racehorse wore a pair of very showy, very stiff, 
 yellow varnished canvas wings, and carried a drum-shaped 
 air-box of india-rubbered canvas immediately behind the 
 aluminium petrol tank ; and scuttled over the ground 
 upon three miniature cycle-Avheels, painted, like the steel- 
 and-bamboo frame they supported, a lively postal-pillar- 
 box vermilion. 
 
 " Shove !" yelled Farlu by, to his factotum, gripping 
 the levers. As he turned his head, a paper crackled in 
 his breast-pocket, a pair of scornful, indignant eyes bored 
 holes in him from the President's box upon the Grand 
 Stand. The pencilled note said : 
 
 " Foolish, my dear Dicky ! Why want me to promise 
 that if Ladybug wins the prize for the Highest Flight 
 I will marry you ? You know that queer gazebo of yours 
 can't fly a yard for nuts ! Ask something easier ! 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " Ethel." 
 
 " Can't fly a yard for nuts, can't you !" muttered the 
 smarting inventor, conscious of those successful secret 
 trials as Ladybug pitched under him, reared, and, to 
 the amazement of the assembled county, steadily rose 
 into the air. Baldalara at the same instant, warned by 
 the hiccoughing of his engine that all was not well, glanced 
 at the graduated registering ten-metre barometer, saw 
 
 
 J
 
 HOW FARLINGBY FLEW 49 
 
 the minimum height of 50 recorded, stopped his engine, and 
 made a rather clumsy descent. 
 
 Meanwhile Farlingby flew. . . . 
 
 When he reached the minimum altitude of two hundred 
 and sixty feet, and in smooth, sweeping, ascending circles 
 continued the ascent that was only to terminate when six 
 times that height had been achieved, the gladsome bellow- 
 ings of acclaiming Hopshire were left far beneath him. Alone 
 with his glorious, realized ambition, his feverish passion left 
 behind with its object upon the base level of inglorious earth, 
 Farlingby was conscious of nothing save that he was happy. 
 When at last he descended, in a series of long, swooping 
 glides, gracefully to ground ; when the Yeomanry Band 
 burst into " See the Conquering Hero," and the crowd 
 cheered itself hoarse — he was not elate, but calmly content. 
 When the President, the Committee, and the county con- 
 gratulated him ; when the silver shaving- dish with his own 
 cheque in it was placed in his hands by the lady of the 
 Lord-Lieutenant ; when the place of honour was accorded 
 Farlingby, the flyer at the banquet whose menu he himself 
 had planned ; when he rose to return thanks to the toast 
 that was drunk in his own excellent champagne, to the 
 hero of the Hopshire Flying Meeting — Farlingby was only 
 conscious of having fulfilled his destiny, and embarked 
 upon his career. When, the toast-drinking over, the male 
 banqueters joined the ladies in the drawing-room of the 
 marquee, and the exquisite Ethel, with a conscious blush, 
 swept her silken draperies from the little chair she had 
 been keeping hidden for Farlingby, he knew no rapture, 
 he experienced no thrill. He realized that Ladybug 
 was infinitely dearer to him than the Honorable Ethel. 
 He knew that he no longer coveted the large, handsome hand 
 of Lord Potterby's daughter . . . that, were it offered him, 
 he should not know what to do with it ... . And, remember- 
 ing the pencilled note that had crackled in the breast-pocket 
 
 4
 
 50 HOW FARLINGBY FLEW 
 
 of the absurd green-and-chocolate suit, he knew a gush of 
 relief in the undoubted fact that it embodied a distinct 
 refusal. 
 
 " Richard . . . Dicky . . ." The Honorable Ethel was 
 distinctly affectionate. Farlingby glanced about him 
 nervously, but there was no escape. Her breath was warm 
 upon his cheek, her whisper in his ear : 
 
 " Forgive me ! I was wrong ! . . . I am ready to atone 
 for my foolish, mistaken judgment." 
 
 " With regard," hinted Farlingby, " to ' the gazebo 
 that can't fly for nuts V " 
 
 " Ah, you are unkind ! But so was I. We'll never 
 quarrel again, will we, Dicky ? You don't know how 
 proud I am," whispered the vanquished Ethel, " that this 
 great day has made me yours !" 
 
 Farlingby said, feeling the net falling over his head : 
 
 " Miss Potterby " 
 
 " Am I not Ethel," she murmured reproachfully, " as 
 you are my Dicky ? For you are my Dicky, aren't you ?" 
 
 " You — you must ask me something easier," said 
 Farlingby heartlessly. " Excuse me, Lady Cockerell of 
 Bangwood is beckoning me with her fan."
 
 V 
 
 THE QUALITY OF MERCY 
 
 It was six o'clock in the afternoon, and for a June day 
 quite warm and sunshiny. I had congratulated the head 
 gardener upon the successful grafting of a new South 
 American clematis upon an English stock, I had picked 
 a snail from a trellis, and mourned over a pale yellow-green 
 ring of immature white-heart cherries lying scattered at 
 the foot of the sturdy young tree that had borne them so 
 proudly only yesterday. I had picked an early tea-rose 
 of lovely orange-red, and, leaving Ap Gryffyth to go to 
 his tea, I passed out through the soil-and-pot-yard that 
 adjoins his own neat cottage-garden into the dusty white 
 road. On my left was the dip that leads to Testerford 
 Bridge, on my right the road that leads to the crossways 
 where you branch off for Oxford, or make for Dorchester, or 
 push forwards between flowering bean-fields and thrush- 
 haunted garden - orchards to Warstrife village - green, 
 dominated by a twelfth-century Anglo-Norman church 
 tower, commanding one of the loveliest views in the Valley 
 of the Thames. 
 
 Lehermit, as I clicked the gate, came buffling down the 
 road in his ugly mustard-coloured Huyper roadster, 
 braking carefully, and hugging the fence, because he meant 
 to turn in at his own garage-yard. Beside him sat a fresh- 
 coloured young groom — a well-knit, curly-headed English- 
 man of twenty-six or twenty-seven, wearing a well-cut 
 and rather well-worn suit of Lehermit's — coat and breeches 
 of grey tweed mixture, worn with a striped livery waist - 
 
 51
 
 52 THE QUALITY OF MEROY 
 
 coat of yellow and black. He sat on the edge of the near 
 side of the front seat, read}^ to jump down and open the 
 yard gate for his master. And I noticed his well-made 
 tan leggings and neat boots, as one notices things of no 
 account, while the mustard-coloured car slid by. Then 
 I turned my head away from the road as I reached for 
 the catch of the gate — and then came a spatter of stinging 
 dust-particles on the back of my neck, and a sound like 
 the beating of wings. ... In contempt of the notice-board 
 posted farther up the road, urging careful going upon the 
 passing motorist, a great car, driven at reckless speed, had 
 gone by with the dash of a swallow, and without the warn- 
 ing hoot of a horn. . . . And then, simultaneously, came 
 a snarling shout : " Get out o' the way !" and a dull, 
 sickening thump ! and a crash of splintered glass, and I 
 knew that an accident had happened. 
 
 Only a little way down the road. As I hurried to the 
 spot, men came up running from the gardens, from the 
 stables, from the dynamo-houses, from the yards. A 
 great, magnificent, shining car — a 30 h.p. automobile on 
 Mercedes lines, but with a high-backed British difference — 
 was pulled up on the wrong side of the road. It held four 
 people — two ladies, whose veil-screened, flowery hats 
 showed over the hood, and as I drew nearer I saw that a 
 liveried chauffeur occupied the driver's seat, and that an 
 elderly gentleman in a sumptuous seal-fined coat, and 
 oap with ear-flaps and eye-guards, sat beside him. 
 
 The victim lay in the road, face downwards, very still, 
 a foot from the near back-wheel of the magnificent car. 
 A dark stream flowed from the bloody head which lay in 
 the white dust, and a horrible red puddle had formed in 
 a slight hollow underneath him. He had ceased to take 
 any interest in the affairs of this life. The occupants of 
 the great and splendid car bestowed not a glance upon 
 him. They were discussing in low voices among themselves
 
 THE QUALITY OF MERCY 53 
 
 as to whether it would not be to their advantage, in the 
 absence of a constable with a notebook, to depart from 
 that place with rapidity. I saved them the trouble by 
 reading their number out aloud, and ostentatiously making 
 a note of it. At that, an oval, disdainful face — the face 
 of a young woman of twenty-five, dark-eyed, with straight 
 brows and a set mouth — glanced at me coldly and con- 
 temptuously from over the high, padded side of the sump- 
 tuous car, and, reading in my own face, it may be, a very 
 decided opinion of the day's work, turned away, studying 
 the grey arch of Testerford Bridge and the broad, wind- 
 whipped river rolling down between its banks of raw, un- 
 sunned green, fringed with willows that swayed and tore 
 their hair like Irish keeners at a wake. 
 
 Lehermit came up, grey-faced and horror-stricken. 
 Ghastly gardeners and scared grooms helped us to raise 
 the prostrate, dusty, and blood-drenched figure in the 
 torn and ragged tweed coat. As the battered, unrecog- 
 nizable head fell upon the breast, its gaping, scarlet scalp- 
 wound showed. Then it rolled helplessly back upon 
 Lehermit's shoulder. 
 
 I saw in one sickening glance that the right brow was 
 cruelly beaten in, and the right eye partly torn from the 
 socket. Four days ago I, who write, saw this thing, and 
 it hovers now between my pen and the paper, and I can 
 hear a woman's voice, with a hard ring in it, saying : 
 " All the man's own fault. . . . What nonsense ! . . . He 
 tried to cross the road. . . . Don't be a fool, mother, for 
 goodness sake !" 
 
 Advised after this filial fashion, the elderly lady, the 
 second occupant of the hooded back-seat, left off saying 
 that such an unpleasant thing had never happened before, 
 and, controlling her chin, gazed over the landscape in 
 emulation of her daughter. It would have been better 
 to have been a fool, like the housemaid upon an orrand,
 
 54 THE QUALITY OF MERCY 
 
 who had dismounted from her bicycle, and was kneeling 
 in the dabbled dust, regardless of her black afternoon frock, 
 and with her cap streamers anyhow, holding one of the 
 limp hands, and saying : " Poor dear ! poor dear ! . . ." 
 It would have been far, far better to have wiped the smother- 
 ing blood from the blue, quivering lips and the pinched 
 nostrils, as did the girl in the mushn gown who had come 
 running from the croquet-lawn of the adjoining riverside 
 villa, followed by her flannel-clad opponent in the singles ; 
 better even to have stood by with twitching lips and 
 brimming eyes of pity, like the grey-haired, elderly lady 
 who, with a companion, had come up, walking with the 
 help of a stout stick and carrying a sketching-block and 
 colour-box, and who now stood leaning upon her staff on 
 the borders of the little knot of Samaritans. It would 
 have been better not to have earned such lowering looks 
 of resentment and hate and contempt as those upon the 
 weather-beaten faces of the working-men, better not to 
 have brought that cold gleam of scorn into Lehermit's pale 
 eyes, or have evoked such glances of mingled fear and 
 wonder as were directed at the pale young lady in the 
 magnificent automobile by the women clustered upon the 
 road. But no individual voice was raised in reproach or 
 expostulation until the grey-haired, elderly lady lifted 
 hers. 
 
 " It is murder ! No, Ella, I will not be contradicted ! 
 I say it is murder to drive through a village at the speed 
 of an express train ! Between two warning-boards asking 
 motorists to proceed slowly. Without even sounding the 
 hooter, if that is what they call the horrible thing ! . . . 
 Don't tell me this man, if he dies, will not have been 
 murdered !" Her voice grew thin and piercing ; she lifted 
 her stick and pointed with it at the averted profile, hand- 
 some as the helmeted Athene-head upon a Corinthian 
 stater, of the girl who sat in the high back seat of the 

 
 THE QUALITY OF MERCY 55 
 
 gorgeous car. " And look at her ! Is human life so cheap 
 in her eyes that she can sit up there unmoved, and stare 
 through her veil at the river, and never turn her head, 
 or even change colour ? Has she a woman's heart in her, 
 or is she a devil — a cold, cruel devil — dressed up in muslin 
 and silks and furs ? . . . My God, it's too horrible ! And 
 he may have a wife waiting for him in some cottage near 
 . . . and children .... My God ! my God !" 
 
 As the hysterical voice wavered and dragged and broke, 
 and the indignant elderly lady sought refuge in feminine, 
 useless tears, a smile momentarily curved the straight 
 red mouth and arched the finely-cut nostril of the im- 
 movable young woman in the motor-car. And a muffled 
 groan, ominous as the distant roar of a coming typhoon, 
 came from the men ; and half-a-dozen stalwart figures 
 detached themselves from the group gathered about the 
 unconscious figure that had been carried to the wayside, 
 and very undemonstratively bore down upon and sur- 
 rounded the sumptuous locomotive. The groan and the 
 simultaneous action appealed to the elderly gentleman 
 and the chauffeur in livery, for they promptly descended 
 from their seats. Possibly had they not done so, they 
 would have been saved the trouble. The door was opened 
 by a groom and an under-gardener. Lehermit, removing 
 the cap, invited the two ladies to descend. The elder of 
 them fluttered down into the road unwillingly enough, the 
 younger stood frowning and hesitating and biting an 
 angry Up. 
 
 " We are going to put the man who has been hurt into 
 this car," said Lehermit's usually smooth voice gratingly. 
 " It is necessary that he should be conveyed to the Battle- 
 borough Cottage Hospital without delay, or he will cer- 
 tainly bleed to death. My car is too small, for one thing, 
 and, for another, the local police will take more interest 
 than you appear to do in this affair when it is reported
 
 56 THE QUALITY OF MERCY 
 
 at the Bousford Constabulary Office. May I advise you 
 to get out ?" 
 
 " We are horribly late already !" Her angry black eyes 
 made fierce war with Lehermit's icy blue ones ; her lips 
 were two thin crimson lines bordering her square white 
 teeth. ' We are upon our way to meet and pick up a 
 friend — this gentleman's son " (she in cheated the elderly 
 man in tho fur-lined coat) — " who is returning from a 
 walking-tour through the Thames Valley. He probably 
 reached the Stag Hotel, in Battleborough, about the time 
 when this unfortunate affair occurred. It is more than 
 possible that, not finding the car there waiting as arranged, 
 he will think something is wrong and walk on, tired as he 
 is, to meet us. I suppose you understand that " 
 
 At Lehermit's nod the baggage in the motor-car had 
 been pulled out by a dozen willing hands, and dumped 
 by the roadside. 
 
 Le hermit held the car-door invitingly open. He said, 
 grimly : "I quite understand — and you had better get 
 out. Otherwise I shall — assist you, without permission !" 
 
 He was ungentlemanly in the extreme, no doubt, as 
 he thus addressed the young lady ; but he was at the same 
 time extraordinarily popular with the bystanders ; and 
 when a gruff labourer, on the outskirts of the throng, said : 
 " Ah, and serve 'er blooming roight !" there was quite a 
 chorus of assenting voices. 
 
 " It is my car !" she said fiercely. " My own car ! . . ." 
 But she got down and walked apart, followed by the 
 elderly lady, who offered balm of sympathy in vain. The 
 elderly gentleman in the sealskin-lined coat had been 
 impressed by Lehermit in the service of the sufferer. 
 
 " Get in and sit upon the floor," he said, without respect 
 for the garment or the wearer, " and if he slips sideways, 
 steady his legs." A pillow and some towels had been 
 brought up by the croquet-girl, and a jug of water and
 
 THE QUALITY OF MERCY 57 
 
 a decanter of brandy appeared in the hands of a black- 
 clad butler, who looked unnaturally respectable beside 
 Lehermit and his ominously stained and dusty Samaritans. 
 And then, a gardener in the front seat beside the chauffeur, 
 and Lehermit and a groom supporting the unconscious 
 victim, whose legs were obediently upheld by the 
 elderly gentlemen in the fur - lined coat, the 30 h.p. 
 motor-car moved smoothly away, gathered speed, and, 
 with a warning toot-toot of horn, sped noiselessly and 
 swallow-swift towards Battleborough, five miles distant, 
 and the crowd thinned and melted. . . . The girl and her 
 friend in flannels went back to the villa croquet-ground, 
 the housemaid departed on her errand, and the elderly 
 lady went on with her companion. ... I stood in the 
 dust, and kicked something that chinked. It was the 
 broken bull's-eye of the near lamp, a crystal bubble half 
 an inch thick, shattered by impact with the victim's head. 
 I picked a bit up and looked at it, standing beside that 
 ugly puddle on the road. Then a man came up and joined 
 me, and, looking up, I gasped ; for it was the fresh-faced 
 young groom who had sat beside Lehermit. There was 
 his round face, his white tie, his wasp-striped livery waist- 
 coat, the tweed coat and shooting- breeches — discarded 
 integuments of Lehermit's — the brown leggings and neat 
 shoes. His explanation was simple enough. He had got 
 down on the near side, intending "to run round her 
 bonnet," cross the road, and open the yard-gates. But 
 the great 30 h.p. automobile had leapt on him, and he only 
 had time to throw himself back against the unlatched gate 
 of the villa garden. It had swung back with his weight, 
 he had fallen into a clump of broom-bushes, knocking the 
 sense out of himself against a forgotten pile of bordoring- 
 tiles for cinder-paths. There was an ugly bruise on his 
 temple to support the assertion. But who, then, was the 
 man who had been hurt ? Lehermit's groom had not the
 
 58 THE QUALITY OF MERCY 
 
 least idea. He had seen him step out from the right-hand 
 side of the road as the great car rushed towards him, 
 throwing up his hand as though to signal or warn the 
 driver. 
 
 " A man of about my 'ighth ... a gentleman, I should 
 say ; dressed in grey tweed coat and breeches and brown 
 gaiters, same as, or very much the same as, them I'm 
 wearing now. He carried a stick," said the fresh-faced 
 groom, " and had a small valise or knapsack seemin'ly 
 strapped high on his shoulders. I see the line of it above 
 'em, as he signalled to the choffore with 'is stick ; and there 
 the stick is, high up in that pollard willow by the Ashlees' 
 fence." Why had he signalled ? My throat grew drier, 
 and my heart thumped, apparently at the bottom of it, 
 as Lehermit's groom nimbly climbed the fence and brought 
 down the stick. It was rather a fashionable stick, light 
 and springy, of black West African swamp-root, with a 
 crested silver plate upon the crook-end, and some initials — 
 " A. E. F. to J. De'H."— with a recent date. Who was 
 thu injured man, injured so hideously, rendered so un- 
 recognizable that Lehermit had gone in with him to the 
 Cottage Hospital believing him to be none other than his 
 own servant ? Could it be that the magnificent, reck- 
 lessly-driven car had been the instrument of vengeance ? 
 Vengeance on the callous nature and the un pitying soul 
 of a proud, selfish woman, who, hurrying on the wings of 
 speed to meet her lover, had felled and crushed by the 
 roadside no common hireling justly despised by her, no 
 vulgar groom, unworthy, even in his mortal anguish, of 
 a pitying word or glance from her ; but her own be- 
 loved. . . . Down the road, borne on the wings of a cold, 
 uprising wind, came at that instant a terrible cry. And 
 I knew that she knew, and that it was he, before she came 
 running to me, a frantic, white-faced, wild-eyed woman, 
 with his dusty, broken-strapped valise in her hand, stam-
 
 THE QUALITY OF MERCY 59 
 
 mering with bleached lips ! " It is his ! . . .it was he ! ... we 
 were to be married . . . next month. Oh, take me to 
 him. . . . For the love of God ! Have pity. . . . Have 
 pity, as I had not !" 
 
 We requisitioned Lehermit's car — left, you will re- 
 member, standing by the roadside. The groom drove, 
 and we got to the Cottage Hospital just in time. I have 
 been told that she thinks he knew her before he died, but 
 the Matron and the Head Surgeon are not so certain. 
 Nothing seems stranger to Lehermit than his having 
 threatened her to make her get out and make room for 
 him. That his father held his legs without knowing who 
 he was until the patient reached the Hospital, Lehermit 
 regards as counting one for the old gentleman. He regards 
 it as likely that the owner of the magnificent 30 h.p. 
 Mercedes will be less keen on automobiling after this. But 
 human nature is capable of strange developments, and it 
 might turn out quite the other way after all.
 
 VI 
 
 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 
 
 Mrs. Lindow Beoeksma, widow of a wealthy Boer farmer 
 and ex-niernber of the Raad, an undeniably beautiful woman 
 of forty, who, twenty-four years previously, had been 
 Kate Carlingford, the beauty of a single brief London 
 season, stood on the stoep of the Orange Vale farmhouse, 
 a solid wooden building of the old Dutch type, painted 
 green and white, with red doors and chimneys, and a 
 rusty gilt weathercock ; and, with her fair and comely face 
 shaded from the scorching spring sunshine by a big Boer 
 bonnet of roughly-plaited straw, looked forth above the 
 Cape jessamine and wistaria-wreathed balustrade, over the 
 carefully tended and pretty flower-garden, across the low- 
 lying peach-orchards and the groves where green fruit 
 and white perfumed blossom hung in profusion on the 
 orange-trees, to the scrub-covered foot-slopes of the 
 mountains. High on her right rose the peaks of the giant 
 ranges towards the burning blue African sky, a narrow 
 defile made a dark, crooked line on the stony grey-green 
 some ten miles away, vanishing midway behind a bristling 
 chevaux de frise of jagged rocks, reappearing at the base 
 of the mountain to open funnel-wise where the boulders 
 of the river-drift showed above the shrunken, sluggishly 
 crawling current. Upon the woman's left hand rose a 
 fine of kopjes of varying size — the lower and more distant 
 bare and naked, those nearer crowned with bushy scrub 
 of aloe, cactus, and prickly-pear, the largest and midmost 
 commanding the drift, and the fan-shaped mouth of the 
 
 Go
 
 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 61 
 
 defile, like a fort built by Nature's hands ; and beyond 
 the menacing line of kopjes spread the veldt, its flowering 
 grasses drying in the fierce sun-rays. Near and far, 
 not a human being stirred upon the face of the lands- 
 cape. Only Nomalie, the Kaffir scullery-girl, crawled 
 over the whitened bricks of the stoep, renewing their 
 chastity of hue from a shallow pan of whitening with a 
 rag dabber. 
 
 The hand that held the well-used, leather - covered 
 field-glass through which Mrs. Broeksma had been scanning 
 the landscape, was strong and firm and white, if splashed 
 here and there upon its smoothness with golden freckles. 
 The figure revealed by her plain black gown was of noble 
 proportions ; on the column-like throat that rose from her 
 superb shoulders poised a stately head, the plentiful gold- 
 brown han had scarcely a thread of white, the matronly 
 beauty of the calm features was as yet unmarred by line or 
 wrinkle. Before the simple directness of her blue-grey 
 eyes, many a Boer, religiously ready to marry, love, and 
 cherish a wealthy widow, had found his courage vanish 
 and his budding hopes wilt. So Kate Broeksma had 
 remained unwooed. Now she looked forth south and west, 
 scanning the huge, beetling mountain-slopes in vain for a 
 sign of coming strife. 
 
 " I see nothing, even with the glass. Gertha Kells 
 must have been mistaken !" 
 
 There was a slight sound, like a dry chuckle, close to 
 Mrs. Broeksma's knees. The Kaffir girl sat up on her 
 projecting yellow heels, stretched out a spare, childish 
 arm, and pointed over the balcony. The knotty black 
 finger indicated the midmost point in the defile, where a 
 restless cloud of tiny birds quivered in the blinding light. 
 She only grunted, but her mistress understood. 
 
 " The birds on the mountain, Nomalie — they would all 
 be sheltering in the thick bushes at this time of day, but
 
 62 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 
 
 that something in the kloof disturbs them — is not that 
 what you mean ?" 
 
 " Yebo," assented Nomalie, nodding vigorously. Then 
 a clear, shrill whistle, like an owl's cry, sounded from the 
 rear of the still homestead, and the tall, black figure in 
 the big Boer sunbonnet was gone from the stoep into the 
 house directly. 
 
 " It is the young Baas !" muttered Nomalie, and fell to 
 afresh at her task of whitening the bricks. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the great room behind the verandah, 
 where the wonderful Dutch dresser stood, with its load 
 of ancient Delft, every piece bearing the priceless signature 
 of De Boot and De Romeyn, — and the high Dutch stove of 
 gilt and painted tiles, standing on the skin of the black- 
 maned lion, shot by the dead husband and father, tried 
 to stare the English cottage-piano and rosebud chintz- 
 covered easy chairs out of countenance, Mrs. Broeksma 
 held her son to her heart. Lindow Broeksma the second 
 was a tall, lean, unkempt young Boer, whose sandy hair 
 hung in tangled clumps, and whose long, sunburnt jaws 
 were decorated by irregular patches of youthful beard of 
 more than reddish hue. Premature lines of hardship 
 were round his keen, grey-blue eyes, his long, sagacious 
 nose was badly sun-roasted, and, having long ago shed the 
 ordinary civilian shooting-tweeds and gaiters in which 
 he had ridden forth to the service of his country, he was 
 attired in a well-worn suit of British Army khaki, with 
 a Sam Browne belt, boots, and putties. On the left breast 
 of the tunic was a powder-blackened, red-edged hole, the 
 portal through which the soul of the original wearer, 
 announced a sergeant of the Lancashire Fusiliers by the 
 lettering on the collar and the stripes upon the sleeves, 
 had made exit. And the felt slouch hat had been shorn by 
 a bullet of its hackles. His bandolier was thoroughly 
 crammed with cartridges, he was armed with a six-shooter,
 
 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 63 
 
 and carried a well-kept, well-used Mauser rifle, with an 
 oily red-spotted handkerchief tied over the breech. 
 
 " Donder ! mother, don't cry, there is no time for that," 
 he said with a hasty kiss. " You can see for yourself 
 I'm sound, wind and limb, and hard as nails. What's 
 wanted is fresh meat or salted beef, biltong and bread, and 
 tobacco and dop, if you have it ! for twenty fellows on the 
 middle kopje there — ' Coetzee's Kopje,' as we used to 
 call it, after old Oom Jan Coetzee got bitten to death by 
 a snake there. Is our commando far away, do you ask ? 
 Ay ! the commando is pretty far away, thirty-five miles 
 as the crow flies, across country. Three hundred tough 
 kerels with plenty of meat and drink, but wanting ammu- 
 nition for our two big guns and the pom-pom. We should 
 have had cartridges and powder by this ; the commandant 
 has sent messenger after messenger to headquarters, but 
 none of them have come back. Perhaps the rooitbaajes 
 have got them. You know that, the duyvels' tents are 
 as white as snow about Pretoria, and our Oom Paul has 
 gone across the frontier. Olivier is with three thousand 
 Afrikanders in the Orange Free State, and Botha — that 
 is a m^n, Alamachtig ! — holds the Transvaal in the hollow 
 of his hand. Wait a bit, mother, and you will see ! We 
 will drive these verdoemte rooineks like sheep ; we will 
 slaughter them and take their skins, and South Africa will 
 be for the Boers again !" 
 
 The young field-cornet smiled pleasantly upon Mrs. 
 Broeksma, disclosing a set of excellent but uncared-for 
 teeth. He tapped his well-stuffed bandolier, with a wink 
 to the overseer — a short, square old Boer, in an ancient 
 suit of corduroys hanging in heavy folds like the skin of a 
 hippopotamus. 
 
 ' We aren't so badly off for cartridges, our little lot," 
 he said, with his rather sinister grin. " We called in at 
 Dirk Peter's homestead, and drank his dop and took his
 
 64 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 
 
 money, and found these buried in the barn along with it ; 
 and then we tied the old man up to his waggon-pole, and 
 gave him three dozen with the sjambok to teach him to 
 avail himself of the next Englander proclamation, and 
 throw down his roer and go back to his farm when better 
 men are fighting ! " No, I can't stay, except for a drink. 
 Bring a bottle of Old Squareface, Oom Gertha, and then 
 I'm going back to the boys on Coetzee's Kopje." 
 
 " Why must they be posted on that kopje ? The snakes 
 are dangerous, and there is no fear of a surprise, is there ?" 
 Mrs. Broeksma asked anxiously. 
 
 " There is no fear of a surprise," said the young field- 
 cornet arrogantly, " but there may be danger of one. 
 The rooineks have moved out from Pretoria ; our scouts 
 tell us that a Division and two brigades of their cavalry 
 have been brought up from Volksrust through Ermelo to 
 Carolina, and that there's another cavalry division pushing 
 over the mountains straight for Barberton. Down the 
 big Deerdskop Sluit there is their best way in dry weather, 
 unless they're verdoemte fools ! Well, when they come 
 pouring out of the bottom of the funnel they'll find us 
 waiting for them by the drift. Wacht ein bietje — you'll 
 see business then !" 
 
 He tossed off a glass of Schiedam, sitting on a wooden 
 stool he had used as a child, and keeping a rifle between his 
 knees, and the heart of Kate Broeksma went cold with fear. 
 
 " But if there is fighting, Lindow," the mother's voice 
 trembled. " You may — you might — be killed !" Her arms 
 went out to the young man as though he were a child ; 
 there was infinite tenderness, mingled with terror and 
 distress, in the face she turned to him. " Against so many 
 as are coming, what could twenty-one Boers do ?" 
 
 " We'll show you what twenty-one Boers can do, fast 
 enough. And sure it is somebody will get killed. But
 
 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 65 
 
 why me more than any other fellow ?" Lindow chuckled, 
 slapping the rifle-breech. " Hoe ! Nomalie wench, what 
 are you saying there ?" 
 
 For a small black figure, with bristling hair-plaits and 
 a pink-striped cotton pinafore, stood on the threshold of 
 the glazed window-door opening on the veranda. " The 
 rooineks — the rooinehs are coming down from the mountain /" 
 she jabbered in her guttural Kaffir-Dutch. 
 
 Mrs. Broeksma was beside Nomalie in an instant. The 
 clouds of frightened birds had ceased to rise and hover 
 above the dark, jagged line of the defile made by the dry 
 bed of the Deerdskop torrent. The scene of their agita- 
 tion was nearer the mountain's base. And, as the woman 
 looked, from the mouth of the stony funnel came riding 
 a straggling body of lean, tanned, ragged men on worn 
 and jaded horses ; and her pale cheek grew red, as a clear, 
 crisp voice, unmistakably English and unmistakably the 
 voice of a gentleman, travelled to her ears across the burning 
 distance, uttering a single word of command. 
 
 Then from the room behind her came a whisper in her 
 son's voice, " English cavalry ?" and as she nodded, 
 glancing over her shoulder : " How many men ?" 
 
 She counted fifteen. 
 
 ' Wait a bit," came the thick whisper. " Perhaps there 
 are more in the sluit there !" 
 
 But she waited, and no more came out. No more might 
 be expected to come out, had she known it, for at least 
 an hour. 
 
 That famous cavalry regiment, the Dapple Grey Hussars, 
 for a twelvemonth past had served under General Paris 
 in all parts of South Africa. Fighting, skirmishing, 
 bivouacking, marching day after day in good weather 
 and bad weather, with hardly a single break in the monot- 
 ony of vigorous service, the regiment had come out on 
 top of despatches without one black smudge upon its
 
 66 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 
 
 gallant record. Therefore, when the strategical pursuit 
 of what remained of the Boer army was organized upon 
 a grand scale, and the British forces, spread out on a front 
 of fifty miles, marched left, right, and centre, to the final 
 discomforture of Botha, the word went forth from the 
 mouth of He Who Had To Be Obeyed that the Dapple 
 Grey Hussars should form the advance guard of Paris's 
 and Button's Division. And as between sickness, casualty, 
 and fatality, the entire strength of the gallant regiment 
 named numbered but a hundred mounted men of all ranks, 
 the remnant of Squadron A. supplying Advanced Recon- 
 naissance for the main body, made rather a sorry show, 
 to the inexperienced eye. 
 
 " Twenty of us against fifteen of them," said the thick 
 whisper, stirring the soft, fine loose hair upon Mrs, 
 Broeksma's white neck. " Hals Berter is in command 
 while I'm absent. Will he tell the boys to fire ? Maybe 
 they won't wait for him to tell them — they don't get a 
 chance of shooting dirty English schelms every day ! 
 Zwijg ! they're crossing the drift. Now would be the 
 chance for the boys. Donder ! they've crossed without 
 being potted, and they're heading for here. Going to 
 pay us a call, perhaps. Curse them, so they are !" 
 
 The mother's eyes were full of fear. " Hide ! oh, hide !" 
 her white lips whispered, as the overseer burst into the room. 
 
 " No, Baas, you cannot escape by the back !" Oom 
 Gertha gasped. " Half of the rooitbaajes have ridden 
 round that way, the rest are riding up the orange-avenue. 
 Try one of the mevrouw's cupboards, or get inside a feather 
 bed. To fight and die is brave, but to be alive is better, 
 the dear Lord knows !" 
 
 Two strong white hands caught Oom Gertha Kells by 
 the collar, pushing him imperiously from the room. 
 
 " Go down, go down and parley with the English soldiers," 
 said the voice of Mrs. Broeksma in his ear. " Leave it to
 
 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 67 
 
 me to hide my son where they shall not find him. Keep 
 them out of this room if you may ; if you cannot, we must 
 risk it. Go !" 
 
 " I don't see how you can " began Broeksma, as his 
 
 mother turned upon him, a woman transformed — vibrating 
 with nervous force and strung to desperate effort. " Better 
 let me jump from the stoep and run for it. Our fellows 
 will " 
 
 She tore the voluminous cover from a high-backed, 
 armless marquetery chair, and pointed to the four-legged 
 stool from which her son had risen. " You shall not risk 
 it ! I forbid you ! Are you not all I have ? Sit on the 
 stool, quick, and hold up your hands on a level with your 
 head. Don't you remember the trick you played as a 
 boy on your Cousin Gertrudis ? Have you forgotten " 
 
 He had not — and instantly obeyed her. 
 
 When Major Hawting and Lieutenant the Hon. Tommy 
 Gregory, followed by Squadron-Sergeant Kennett and an 
 orderly, were ushered by the perspiring overseer of the 
 Orange Vale Farm into the presence of the mistress, she 
 was sitting, very calm and upright, on a chintz-covered, 
 high-backed chair, engaged upon a piece of cambric 
 embroidery. Very nimbly the white fingers manipulated 
 the shining needle, very proudly and gravely the white 
 lids lifted as the spurs jingled at the threshold. 
 
 "May I ask," asked the Boer farmwife, in cultured, 
 perfect English, " to what we owe the unexpected honour 
 of this visit V 
 
 Lieutenant Gregory heard the Major whisper under his 
 breath a word or two. He did not distinguish their 
 meaning, or he would have stared with even rounder eyes. 
 " My God, it's Kate Carlingford !" the Major had muttered. 
 If Mis. Broeksma had quivered and started, pierced by 
 the lance of recognition on her side, it was only known to 
 the chair she sat upon.
 
 68 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 
 
 With only a passing hesitation, the Major explained. 
 Under the terms of the Commander-in-Chief's proclama- 
 tion issued in the month of May, many militant Boers 
 had abandoned the commandos of the partisan leaders 
 and returned to their farms. Upon a marked map which 
 the officer produced, and showed the lady, the position 
 of the Orange Vale farmhouse was marked by a black 
 cross, the present occupation of its master indicated by 
 the red-ink letters " S. I. A." Still In Arms. He begged 
 permission to warn her that the proclamation was now 
 rescinded, and that all Boers taken in the act militant must 
 become prisoners of war. 
 
 " Thank you, we shall not forget," said Mrs. Broeksma, 
 looking straight at the Major with a pleasant smile. " My 
 son is at present away from home, staying with some 
 relatives at Barberton, to one of whom — a charming girl, 
 and my niece by marriage — he is engaged. I will give 
 him the information when I write " (she deliberately cut 
 off a thread) ; " though in the disturbed state of the 
 country it is difficult to get letters through." 
 
 " And in the meanwhile, if you have any firearms or 
 ammunition in the house, or upon the premises," hinted 
 the courteous Major, " you will, of course, not object to 
 deliver them to us, the country being at present under 
 martial law !" 
 
 " With pleasure, Major," said Mrs. Broeksma, bowing 
 courteously from her chair ; " but, except an old elephant- 
 rifle of my poor husband's and a revolver I keep by me 
 for protection, there is nothing in that way. Of course, 
 the overseer has a gun and a revolver of his own ; no doubt 
 you will use your own methods of persuasion with him !" 
 Her lip curled a little. 
 
 " Kindly withdraw for a moment, Lieutenant Gregory," 
 said the Major, turning keen, sea-blue eyes upon the Hon. 
 Tommy, who was winking vigorously at his commanding
 
 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 69 
 
 officer in the effort to indicate something that was lying 
 on the centre-table, " and take the sergeant and the 
 orderly with you." 
 
 The Lieutenant marched out his men. The door closed 
 on the jingling of spurs. Then the bronzed, haggard, 
 bristly-chinned Major in his patched Service khaki, fringed 
 and ragged putties, and dilapidated boots, walking very 
 lightly, with long, even steps, moved to the table, and took 
 from it a Mauser rifle with a red-spotted handkerchief 
 tied over the breech. 
 
 " Your son or some other armed Boer is in this house, 
 Mrs. Broeksma," the Major said very distinctly. " Here 
 is his rifle, the stock still hot from the sun. Here is the 
 glass he has been drinking from. There are Boers in 
 ambush in the neighbourhood, we know, and this man is 
 of their number. God knows, if— if it is any one dear to 
 you, my utmost influence shall be used for his protection. 
 I ask you only to trust me, if it is as I believe !" 
 
 She wavered, almost imperceptibly, for the merest 
 breath of a whisper from underneath the rosebud chintz 
 had warned her, ' NO !" She had been pale before, but 
 she was white to the lips now. " If you believe this, and 
 that any person is hidden here, sir, search and make sure." 
 
 The Major went to the door and gave a rapid order. 
 Thenceforwards the heavy footsteps of men were heard 
 about the house. The Major came back. The lady went 
 on working. After a pause, she spoke : 
 
 " This is very different from Stanhope Gate, is it not, 
 Mr. — Major Hawting, I should say ?" 
 
 " It is," agreed the Major. " But you are not so very 
 unlike the Miss Carlingford I used to visit there. Time 
 has been kind to you, Mrs. Broeksma, indeed !" 
 
 " Do not stand ; please sit down while your men are 
 going through the formality of searching the house," said 
 Mrs. Broeksma, almost with a smile.
 
 70 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHATR 
 
 The Major thanked her, and preferred to lean against the 
 table, folding his arms, in an attitude she remembered well. 
 
 " Those were dear, happy days at Stanhope Gate," 
 said Mrs. Broeksma, with a softening in her tone that corre- 
 sponded with the softening in her glance, " and I have 
 often wished that I could — thank you for them." 
 
 " You did so when you bade me good-bye," said the 
 Major, with stiff lips, " twenty-four years ago." 
 
 " Ah, but I mean more gratefully, and more warmly," 
 said the widow. " When we are as young as I was then 
 we are selfish. We take everything for granted. All 
 kindness, all devotion " 
 
 " All love," said the Major, and closed his lips upon the 
 word. A flush came into Mrs. Broeksma's cheeks, and her 
 bosom rose and fell in an agitated way. 
 
 " I have felt for many years that I owed you some ex- 
 planation of what may have seemed ingratitude and — 
 heart lessness," she said quickly. " When I was hurriedly 
 summoned back from England to the Transvaal, it was to 
 find my father a ruined and a dying man. He had one 
 friend who stood by him, a man of his own age — they had 
 been friends from boyhood. And that man — loved me : 
 and my father said : ' If you wish me to die in peace, put 
 your hand in Lindow Broeksma's, and let me see you 
 married to him before I go.' " Her voice faltered. ' What 
 else could I do but obey him ?" 
 
 There was a flush on the Major's face now, and a new 
 
 light in the stern eyes. " Kate !" he cried, and took 
 
 a long stride towards her. " Kate !" 
 
 " Oh, hush !" she said, and then could have bitten her 
 tongue out. But the Major went on. 
 
 " Mrs. Broeksma, you are no longer a wife, and I must 
 speak, unless you silence me. I loved you twenty-four 
 ypars ago, — I have never ceased to love you ! — I never shall 
 cease — not being the kind of man to change easily — unless
 
 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 71 
 
 some Boer bullet has the power to annihilate thought and 
 consciousness with the mere taking of a man's life. And I 
 believe the other thing, you know,thoughI'm no theologian !" 
 
 There was a knock at the door. Lieutenant the Hon. 
 Tommy Gregory stepped in, and saluted the senior officer. 
 
 " I beg to report, sir, that there are no Boers concealed 
 upon the premises." 
 
 " Very well, Gregory. You have searched everywhere V 
 
 " Everywhere, sir," said the Lieutenant, " except this 
 room." His round eyes roved curiously about the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 " Mount and make ready for marching," the Major said 
 to the Lieutenant. " I'll join you in a moment more !" 
 
 " There's one other thing, Major," said the Lieutenant. 
 " The five men you detached to go up that bush-topped 
 middle kopje report it swarming with snakes, and two 
 dead Boers lying in the scrub. Private Hogg is bitten, 
 and they've ligatured above the bite, cut the piece out, 
 dosed him with whisky and ammonia, and are walking 
 him up and down." 
 
 The Lieutenant clattered out and jingled along the passage 
 and down the wooden steps that led from the hall-door. 
 
 The Major took a long stride back into the middle of 
 the room. 
 
 " This life is full of chances, Kate !" The name broke 
 from him almost with a cry, and the man's hands stretched 
 out towards her almost involuntarily. " We met first 
 by chance. It was a chance our meeting again. If I 
 have the shadow of a chance of winning what I have 
 longed for all these years, only rise and come to me, and 
 put your hands in mine. I ask no words, only for this ! 
 Will you not do it ?" 
 
 " // you do it," said the whisper from under the rosebud 
 chintz, " J will shoot him dead before your eyes, and myself 
 before they can take me /"
 
 72 A CHINTZ-COVERED CHAIR 
 
 ' Will you not do this ?" asked the Major ; and she 
 answered with a tortured sob : 
 
 " I cannot ! It is impossible !" 
 
 There was a silence. The deep, hurried breathing of 
 three people where only two appeared to be, seemed to 
 Mrs. Broeksma to fill the room, and clamorously invite 
 suspicion. But at last the Major bowed and turned away. 
 Then spurs jingled down the wooden steps, there was a 
 scraping of horses' hoofs upon the gravel, and at a signal 
 from Nomalie that the rooineks had ridden on, Mrs. 
 Broeksma rose up from the chintz-covered chair. 
 
 " I was a verdoemte fool not to remember about the 
 snakes on that kopje," said the angry voice of young 
 Broeksma, as he freed himself from his recent ambush and 
 stretched his stiffened limbs, " and I wonder how many 
 of our Transvaalers are dead, and where the other fellows 
 are hiding ? As for you, you're an Englishwoman, and no 
 Boer's vrouw, and I know now whose is the photograph you 
 used to keep in a locket when I was a child, and kiss and 
 cry over sometimes " 
 
 " Lindow !" she uttered angrily. 
 
 ' When you thought nobody was looking. Deny, if 
 you dare, that if you hadn't been sitting on my knee you'd 
 have gone to him — that long-legged, hatchet-faced schelm, 
 and put your hands in his as he asked ! And if you got 
 the chance again " 
 
 Three rifle-shots cracked in the distance. A return 
 volley nearer at hand woke the sleeping echoes of the 
 mountain. The Kaffir girl, Nomalie, cried out from the 
 stoep in a shrill, triumphant voice. 
 
 " I can save my breath to blow my coffee," said young 
 Broeksma, showing his discoloured teeth in an unpleasant 
 smile. " You'll never get the chance again. They've 
 shot your English lover !"
 
 VII 
 
 " ROUGE GAGNE !" 
 
 Lady Honoria, Freddy's mother — Freddy was the Detri- 
 mental whose undistinguished career closed in the episode 
 I am to relate — Freddy's mother was a fragile, rose-cheeked, 
 golden-locked beauty when Freddy's father, whom Freddy 
 was afterwards to know as a melancholy misogynist, led 
 her, in the height of an Early Victorian Season, to the 
 altar of St. George's, Hanover Square. Seven years have 
 sped since Freddy, aged twenty-five, youngest of six, 
 quitted a Northern Negridan swamp for the Other Side 
 of Things ; and I saw Lady Honoria driving in the Park 
 but yesterday, and she is a fragile, rose-cheeked, golden- 
 haired beauty still, who profits by the newest fashion in 
 hats to wear three veils, and looks the better for it. 
 
 Lady Honoria always believed in painting the lily, and 
 it was at the maternal knee that Freddy laid in the ex- 
 tensive store of precocious and peculiar knowledge which 
 served him to draw upon in after-life. At an age when his 
 round, innocent eyes were barely on a level with the edge 
 of Lady Honoria's toilet-table, Freddy was able to trace 
 each allurement of feminine beauty to its source. He 
 knew that pink cheeks came out of a little, rose-decked 
 cardboard box, that pink nails were kept in a tiny china 
 pot, that red lips were made out of one tiny bottle, and 
 lovely black eyelashes came out of another. He drew 
 blue diagrams on his chubby arms with vein-pencils, and 
 eradicated imaginary wrinkles from his innocent snub-nose 
 with miniature garden-rollers of ivory. And one of the 
 
 37
 
 74 " ROUGE GAGNE !" 
 
 chief articles of his infant creed was that blanc-de-perle 
 must be dabbed on and allowed to dry before you apply 
 the powder-puff, and another that all grown-up ladies 
 wore little pillows sewn inside their frocks and slept in 
 slices of raw veal, and chamois-leather gloves full of little 
 holes and anointed with choice unguents. Far, far prefer- 
 able to the legitimate delights of the flogged rocking-horse 
 or the beaten hoop was the silent ecstasy of watching his 
 mother's hair, hanging loosely over her white peignoir, 
 put off the appearance of damp seaweed and assume the 
 glory of Venetian gold, under the transmuting rays of 
 London sunshine, discreetly filtered through the lace 
 blinds of her boudoir. The boy taught his tutor much 
 more than he learned from that functionary, and when 
 he went to Eton, could have passed an examination in all 
 the latest and most scientific methods by which the pre- 
 cariously-held territory of feminine loveliness is fortified 
 and defended against the invasions of the arch-enemy 
 Time. 
 
 Neither at Eton nor at Sandhurst — for Master Freddy 
 was destined to defend his country — did he allow his love 
 of study to interfere with recreation, nor were his recrea- 
 tions of the aggressively athletic kind. In College theat- 
 ricals he shone ; combining the responsibilities of stage- 
 manager, the duties of stage-carpenter, the role of leading 
 lady, and the part of principal burlesque girl. No 
 country-house charade, no bazaar tableau vivant, could get 
 along sans Freddy. Previous to a fancy ball — and soon 
 after Freddy joined the 1st Battalion of the " Wessex 
 Wonders," that distinguished territorial regiment efflor- 
 esced in a dazzling series of these delightful entertainments 
 — previous to a fancy ball no subaltern was ever in greater 
 request. With his pockets bulging with the little pots, 
 boxes, and bottles, familiar to him from earliest infancy, 
 with patches loose in his waistcoat-pocket, and eye-pencils
 
 " ROUGE GAGNE !" 75 
 
 behind his ear, the fair-haired, slim-waisted, blue-eyed, 
 innocent-looking youth would fly here, there, and every- 
 where, advising, entreating, commanding, persuading, 
 admiring, in a breath. Questions the most delicate were 
 submitted to Freddy for decision. A very limited amount 
 of parade, drill, gymnastics, and musketry sufficed to 
 nourish his professional enthusiasm ; but of drinking 
 weak tea and smoking cigarettes in overheated boudoirs, 
 of helping their owners to choose their hats and match 
 their chiffons, Freddy was never weary. He preferred 
 fashions to tactics, and could discuss them by the hour. 
 The length or width of the skirt, the cut of a sleeve, the 
 latest colour, the newest gait in walking, the latest method 
 of shaking hands, the latest shades in hair and skin, were 
 subjects upon which Freddy was an authority. He adored 
 the society of women, and was petted and caressed to his 
 heart's content by the daughters, wives, and sisters of 
 his brother-officers. His mother simply worshipped him. 
 Did he not counsel her in corsets and create her coiffures ? 
 And the ladies of the rank-and-file were, to a woman, 
 on Freddy's side. It was rumoured that during an in- 
 spection of the Married Quarters he had been discovered 
 teaching Mrs. Corporal McKenna how to turn and remodel 
 a last year's toque. A quiet command of scathing repartee, 
 a cool delight in devilry, distinguished him from the mere 
 effeminate fribble ; he played whist like an expert and 
 polo like a Persian. He sang the latest ballad or music- 
 hall ditty in a little, agreeable light tenor voice ; was an 
 admirable mimic and vamper of an accompaniment. And 
 men, like women, sought him for information touching the 
 newest craze and the latest fad of fashion. Had bridge 
 been invented in the palmy days of Freddy, had " kicka- 
 poo " or " ju-jitsu " flowered into life, with what whole- 
 hearted enthusiasm he would have devoted himself to 
 these engrossing pastimes ! Now he lies in a Northern
 
 76 " ROUGE GAGNE !" 
 
 Negridan swamp, where the blue-bodied, red-legged crane 
 catches little snakes all day, and the honey-bird cries 
 ceaselessly " Seeker I Seeker /" over the bones of one who 
 never seemed to seek anything but the portion of the idler. 
 As to the godless act of irreverent presumption cul- 
 minating in the scandal that sent Freddy out to Northern 
 Negrida, it cannot be denied that Freddy — Freddy, the 
 Dictator of the regimental boudoirs, the unanimously 
 elected arbiter elegantiarum who chose hats and matched 
 chiffons, and made up complexions to harmonize with 
 fancy-ball costumes — Freddy assisted the wife of the 
 Senior Major, a stout lady of rigid morals, to put on her 
 wig ! Nay, there are some who hint that this twentieth- 
 century Actaeon, this Peeping Tom who got so deservedly 
 sent to Coventry, assisted at the rite of lacing ! " But 
 where there is no waist, can there be stays ?" as one of 
 Freddy's feminine defenders afterwards demanded. Cer- 
 tainly the lowermost and most voluminous of the Senior 
 Major's wife's three chins merged in billows of adipose per- 
 sonality, confined, in the conjectural regions of the ceinture, 
 by an invisible string. She was a woman of the type known 
 as " imposing," proud of her family, her fat, her husband, 
 and several other things no one else would have bragged 
 about. She had a withering eye, and was a crusher by 
 profession, but Freddy declined either to be withered or 
 crushed. Obstinacy like this infallibly drives women of 
 the type of the Senior Major's wife to despair or strong 
 measures. She chose the strong measures, and issued a 
 ukase forbidding the owners of the regimental boudoirs to 
 open their doors to " that horrid, lisping little dandy !" 
 
 " You treat the creature, all of you, as if he were a pet 
 poodle !" snorted the indignant lady. " Allow him to 
 dictate to you — wear whatever he pleases " 
 
 " If I wore what pleased a pet poodle best," observed a 
 lady who really possessed one, " it would be nothing but a
 
 " ROUGE GAGNE !" 77 
 
 railway rug." But upon her the Senior Maj or's wife turned 
 a cold shoulder. She was with difficulty diverted from the 
 war-path by a particular friend of Freddy's, who knew she 
 was in need of a reliable lady's-maid — a paragon who could 
 do everything and wanted next to nothing. She thought 
 she had heard of such a prodigy, much to the joy of the 
 Major's wife. 
 
 Now, when the Senior Major's wife was dressing for 
 dinner that very evening, a young person bearing 
 credentials from a local Registry Office was reported 
 to be in waiting, and was admitted to the sacred 
 precincts of the Senior Majoress's dressing-room. She 
 seemed a slim, demure, fair-haired, pink-cheeked young 
 person, closely veiled and habited in modest black, and the 
 Senior Major's wife quite took to her at first sight. On 
 being asked whether she could dress hair she offered proof 
 of her abilities on the spot, and, after some hemming, a 
 mysterious cardboard box containing — dare we hint what ? 
 — being produced, she manipulated the transformation- 
 coiffure it contained to admiration, added an exiguous 
 touch or two to the eyebrows and complexion of its owner, 
 and, with a respectful curtsey, quitted the room. 
 
 " I shall engage her — I shall certainly engage her," mur- 
 mured the stout lady, " if her references are as reliable as 
 she says !" And, with a complacent smile at her own 
 embellished reflection in the dressing-table glass, she tore 
 open the envelope supposedly containing the address of 
 the paragon. Then she rent the air with shrieks, and tore 
 off her waves and fringes, and became, on the instant, a 
 very plain, very hot, very furious Senior Majoress. For 
 Freddy and the demure candidate for the post of lady's- 
 maid were one, as the pencilled lines upon his card inti- 
 mated. And the result was a grand emeute — a scandal 
 royal — and Freddy exchanged.
 
 78   ROUGE GAGNE !" 
 
 Not into an Indian Regiment, to become the glory of 
 garrison theatricals, the victim of the ubiquitous bearer, 
 and the slave of the restless rupee. He exchanged into a 
 West African Frontier Corps, with the rank of Captain, 
 and went out to join the — th Bausa Rifles, garrisoned at 
 a station on the Lower Negra, and charged with the duty 
 of maintaining the prestige of the British Empire in a palm- 
 oil, ivory, and caoutchouc-producing coast region recently 
 secured by treaty with a native dignitary resident in an un- 
 explored region of the interior (a gentleman known, unless 
 memory errs, as the Banga, in sinister repute as a practiser 
 of ju-ju and collector of human skulls), and placed under an 
 Imperial Commissioner appointed by the Secretary of State 
 for Foreign Affairs. The Protectorate was announced in 
 the Pink Tape Gazette upon the very date that saw the 
 publication of indignant paragraphs in several dailies re- 
 specting the Banga's disregard of the most important 
 clauses of a treaty bearing the large black seal and signatory 
 ink-smudge of the potentate's thumb. 
 
 To convince him of the folly of coquetting with other 
 Powers, a British Expedition was to ascend the Negra, 
 quit that river at a certain point, penetrate the unexplored 
 interior, occupy the conjectural capital of the Banga 
 country, enforce a moral, and adorn a tale. Fifteen hun- 
 dred lean, slim-shanked Mohammedan Bausas, officered by 
 five Englishmen and attended by the usual complement of 
 carriers, constituted the Expedition, which was nominally 
 led by Captain Freddy, really by his Lieutenant, a grey- 
 headed, melancholy oldster, with the leather skin and the 
 muddy eyeball that betoken a constitution seasoned by 
 many fevers — blackwater fever, swamp fever, fly fever, 
 yellow fever, and dysentery — to endure the exigencies of 
 the climate. And the Lieutenant looked with mild, remote 
 interest at Freddy's beautiful japanned bath-tub, borne on 
 the head of one native, while another carried his silver-gilt
 
 " ROUGE GAGNE !" 79 
 
 toilet-apparatus in its travelling-case. He understood and 
 appreciated luxury, never starting on any mission without 
 a change of flannels and a worn-out hairbrush, but he 
 knew nothing of luxury like this. His cosmetics were 
 carbolic ointment, vaseline, and mustard plasters ; his 
 philtres quinine and chlorodyne ; his nostrums several 
 native applications good for guinea-worm and chigoes, 
 boils, and other local demonstrations of the effervescent 
 activity of Nature under a West African sun. 
 
 And in a West African fog, as the Expedition, quitting the 
 boats of loose planks artlessly secured by ropes of reed in 
 which it had made its voyage up to Abao, ploughed through 
 the moist black clay which was a little later to become 
 slimy, adhesive, black mud — for the start had thoughtfully 
 been arranged so that the return must be made in the rainy 
 season — Freddy, looking back at the long, snaky trail, be- 
 came used to the appearance of an apparently endless pro- 
 cession of sweating, shiny faces, floating apparently bodiless 
 on a low sea of crawling white vapour. He learned to discern 
 between the bite of the mosquito and the tsetse-fly, and 
 to doubt the efficacy of cold-cream in either case. He 
 learned to know a monkey-bread tree from a fan-palm, 
 and how many needles will buy a calabash of native corn- 
 pudding or a pot of sour milk. Later on he learned that 
 all the silver dollars of the Slave Coast or the nuggets of 
 the Gold Coast will not buy food when it is not there. The 
 slimy, green vegetation, the coarse, breast-high grasses, 
 vanished before the eyes of the Expedition under the on- 
 slaughts of huge black grub-worms and yellow beetles, 
 and the Expedition ate these, before very long, and were 
 grateful. Freddy, dividing a small tin of French asparagus 
 with the Lieutenant, sighed as he thought of the mess menus 
 that he had condemned as gross, and grew more wasp- 
 waisted every day. But he never neglected his toilet. 
 His nails were as irreproachable, his neat moustache as well
 
 80 " ROUGE GAGNE !" 
 
 waxed, his smoothly-shaven cheeks as pink and white as 
 in the days of old, before that onslaught on the Proprieties, 
 united in the person of the Senior Major's wife. . . . And the 
 jungle closed up behind the Expedition every weary, hungry, 
 footsore night, and opened out before it every stiff, aching, 
 blear-eyed morning. But they were getting nearer to the 
 Banga, and when, at the end of a banyan avenue tastefully 
 hung with the choicest human curios belonging to that 
 dignitary's collection, they saw the conical mud roofs of 
 his palace-town and the wattled reed-screens of his fortifica- 
 tions, they raised a croaking cheer and sent the Maxim 
 forward. 
 
 But the Banga did not require the Maxim, he explained, 
 with volubility, when the leaders of the Expedition con- 
 fronted him in his own courtyard. Sitting on a native 
 cricket, under a palm-shed, with a theatrically gorgeous 
 drapery of brocade wrapped about his gross body, weighed 
 down with many pounds of barbaric ivory and savage gold, 
 he was ready to append his thumb-seal to another treaty, 
 to any number of treaties ; to bow his shiny bullet-head 
 beneath the rebuke of his elder brother, the Great White 
 King of England, and to give his word never to do that 
 which he ought not to do, or leave undone that which 
 ought not to be left undone again ! He was ready to give 
 up coquetting with Foreign Powers, to give up ju-ju, to give 
 the chiefs of his great white brother every satisfaction in 
 his power ; he was ready, able, and willing to fill them 
 and their followers with assurances, protestations, flat- 
 teries — but not with food ! The grubs had eaten up the 
 plantains, the rats had got at the granaries built in the 
 trees, the cows were bewitched and gave no milk. The 
 Banga and his people were starving, themselves. ... By the 
 light of his burning museum of human relics — for the Great 
 White King had insisted upon this punitive measure being 
 carried out — the Banga watched the gaunt Expedition
 
 " ROUGE GAGNE !" 81 
 
 depart, setting their fever-drawn and hunger- pinched faces 
 to the Great Black River from whence they had come. 
 And, if Bangas ever chuckle, the Banga chuckled as the 
 dripping jungle swallowed up the last trail of the slow- 
 moving, baggage-laden centipede. Then he went in, with 
 renewed relish, for ju-ju again ; and sacrificed slaves, goats, 
 and white cocks ad libitum in honour of the personage who 
 had helped him to play off that little joke on his Great 
 White English Brother. 
 
 And the Expedition waded along under the dripping 
 branches, under the low, grey, pouring skies, tripping over 
 tangled tree-roots, squelching through black morasses that 
 grew deeper every day. Nature liquefied under that down- 
 pour — without and within. Men dropped upon their knees 
 like rotted sheep and gave up the ghost. Men battled on 
 in a dumb ecstasy of wretchedness, their hollow eyes set 
 vacantly and their leathery mouths full of grass or leaves. 
 They had hungered and famished before, they were starving 
 now. Some of them had died previously, now all were 
 dying. All would have died, falling unnoticed out of the 
 lagging column to right and left upon the plashy trail, but 
 for owe beacon of hope that never failed. It shone in the 
 face of the Leader of the Expedition. To the Africans, 
 only six hundred strong now, there was something stimu- 
 latingly uncanny in the unchanging, never-fading red and 
 white of Freddy's dazzling complexion, shaded by the rags 
 of a blue mosquito- veil and a battered solar topi. God 
 was great ! said the Bausas, and every man's destiny was 
 written on his forehead, and it seemed to them that upon 
 the Captain's might be deciphered signs indicating deliver- 
 ance for those who followed where he led. To the English 
 — only three of them remaining — those rose-and-lily cheeks, 
 those healthfully crimson lips, perhaps told another tale ! 
 and when the Leader of the Expedition crawled out of his 
 tattered remnant of a tent each morning, and the dressing- 
 
 o
 
 82 " ROUGE GAGNE !" 
 
 case (invariably his pillow) was restrapped and balanced 
 for the day's march upon the head of the strongest carrier 
 (the bath-tub had been thrown away with the Martinis 
 and the cowrie-sacks long ago), the grey, middle-aged Lieu- 
 tenant, now white in patches, and bowed and shrunken 
 as with the weight of seventy years, would look preter- 
 naturally wise. He had read his Tennyson until the white 
 ants got it, and he knew that honour may stand rooted in 
 dishonour, and that a Captain marching under false colours 
 may yet be staunch to the Flag. He came to this conclusion 
 when the Sergeant-Major died ; and, rising up, a gaunt, 
 living spectre from the side of the worn, wasted body, his 
 eyes met the eyes of the Captain, burning, preternaturally 
 bright with fever, out of that painted red-and-white face, 
 that defied Disease with the hues of health, and paraded 
 Famine in the mask of plenty. And a white, bony, scorch- 
 ing hand gripped his wrist. . . . 
 
 " You've been the real leader of the Expedition all along, 
 Layton, old man," said Freddy's voice, husky, weak, and 
 rattling in his hollow chest like a pebble in a child's drum. 
 " I've only held brevet-rank, and kept my end up as well 
 as I could." He held to the Lieutenant's arm and panted, 
 and the great beads of mingled sweat and rain that ran 
 down his staringly bright cheeks left pinkish smears on 
 the rag of a handkerchief with which he wiped them away. 
 " Don't think — I can hold out — any longer ! Not been 
 able to shave for — three days ! Sorry — for those poor 
 beggars' sakes !" rattled Freddy, with a glance at the hag- 
 gard remnant of the Expedition — ninety-three Bausas 
 reduced to skin and bone. " Bury me where the earth- 
 hogs can't get at me, please ! and — better take my tip, and 
 go on doing as I've done ! I can't think why I brought a 
 theatrical make-up box on this picnic, unless because I'd 
 an idea that the Banga would give a costume-ball in our 
 honour, or because the thing was meant ! But, anyhow, it
 
 " ROUGE GAGNE !" 83 
 
 has helped me to play my part, and now I've spoken the tag, 
 and — the curtain's coming down on the performance ! . . ." 
 The Lieutenant buried Freddy in the swamp, under a 
 mangrove-root where the earth-hogs couldn't get at him. 
 He did not wash those flaring patches of red from the wax- 
 yellow cheeks that bristled with their three days' growth. 
 He succeeded to the command of the Expedition, and the 
 contents of the dressing-case, but he buried that costly, 
 much-battered article with its owner. Also, he brought 
 the remnant of his Bausas back to the garrison-station out 
 of the swamps ; upon which the Administrator cabled to the 
 Imperial Commissioner that the Banga had been banged 
 and British prestige maintained ; there were paragraphs 
 in the dailies, the illustrated weeklies published drawings 
 by Our Special Artist, made on the spot, and illustrating 
 the burning of the Banga's banyan museum. The Lieu- 
 tenant got special mention and promotion, and . . . this 
 is a story without a moral. " Seeker ! Seeker /" cry the 
 honey-birds over Freddy's grave in the swamp ; " not the 
 shadow of one /"
 
 VIII 
 THE FOURTH VOLUME 
 
 With a quite genuine gush of pity and sorrow, Alice Fan- 
 ninghall received an urgent telegraphic summons to the 
 Deershire hunting-box, where a man whose matrimonial 
 proposals she had three times definitely rejected was lying 
 at the point of death. 
 
 In brief, severely technical sentences she was told that 
 Major Rollsford Makerson, of the Bay Hussars, had, while 
 hunting with the Letchborough and Downland Foxhounds, 
 been thrown and rolled on by his horse ; had sustained 
 fracture of the spine with lesion ; and so Miss Fanninghall 
 had gratified the desire of a patient certified by two pro- 
 vincial practitioners and an eminent London surgeon and 
 F.R.C.S. as virtually moribund — to have the woman he 
 had hopelessly loved beside him at the last. 
 
 It was all so like a play or a story out of a book — the 
 summons, the journey, the arrival, the entry into the dark- 
 ened chamber where the King of Terrors was soon to reign, 
 the light of rapture in the haggard eyes, the whispered, 
 faltering entreaty : " Be my wife, my beloved. You'll be my 
 widov) — before night /" — that Alice Fanninghall had been 
 carried away on the high tide of Romance. The parish 
 clergyman had been sent for in hot haste — had hurried 
 through the ceremony that united the living to the dying, 
 and — and — the dying had not died. 
 
 They were quite genuine, the tears of gratitude, the 
 thanksgivings addressed to Heaven, with which the new- 
 made bride had received the news that the desperate crisis 
 
 84
 
 THE FOURTH VOLUME 85 
 
 was past, that there was a change for the better in the 
 patient's condition : that he might live over the next day ; 
 that he might even last out the week. Then came the 
 intimation that with care, incessant, unsleeping, assiduous, 
 Alice Makerson's husband might be spared for several years 
 to come. She knew herself sincere in her gladness, that her 
 wealth made it possible for Rollsf ord to have all the luxuries 
 that can alleviate the condition of a helpless invalid. 
 
 So several years had gone by. They had worn and sharp- 
 ened Mrs. Makerson's once rounded outlines, had graven 
 a furrow or two on her white forehead and by her sensitive 
 lips ; had even sowed grey threads through her thick, silky 
 brown hair. But she never owned that she had repented 
 of an act that Makerson's friends and hers had stigmatized 
 as " noble," until the man came whose glance, whose voice, 
 whose touch stabbed her to the heart with the realization 
 of all that she had lost. 
 
 You remember Makerson, late of the Bay Hussars ? 
 Makerson, always lying on an invalid couch ; always being 
 hoisted by labour-saving appliances into some new posi- 
 tion ; always being massaged, ministered to, dosed, dieted, 
 combed, amused, sympathized with, by his devoted wife ? 
 To do him credit, the Major sang her praises unceasingly. 
 He kissed her white finger-tips when she applied cooling 
 lotions to his brow, or gave him his tonic, or fed him with 
 grapes or bits of quartered orange dipped in port and 
 dusted with sugar. He smoked no cigarettes that were 
 not made by her, wore no wrappers that she had not 
 knitted, read no books except through the medium of her 
 patient, weary eyes and sweet, tired voice — left no word 
 unsaid or overt act undone that could testify to his grati- 
 tude to the " Angel of his prison-house," as he fondly called 
 her. 
 
 But one thing that Makerson had undertaken to do he 
 left undone. He did not die. And his angei was his
 
 86 THE FOURTH VOLUME 
 
 prisoner and he her gaoler. The tragedy begins when they 
 had been married for seven years. She would be thirty, 
 the helpless log, her nominal husband, verging on his 
 fortieth autumn. She had been failing in health of late, 
 the improvement in Makerson was more evident every 
 day. One day, unmarked by any meteorological distinc- 
 tions setting it apart from other days, brought to the 
 invalid, lying in his luxuriously appointed ground- floor 
 library at their Sloane Street house, the wonderful know- 
 ledge that he was going to get well. 
 
 Going to get well. . . . The conviction filled Makerson 
 with a swelling sense of coming gladness, with infinite com- 
 placency in the thought that Alice was going to reap at 
 last her great, her glorious reward. He believed, this dupe 
 of his own colossal selfishness, that his wife had loved him 
 from the very beginning, had refused him out of coquetry, 
 and had tended him through all their wedded years out of 
 love — out of love. . . . 
 
 Now Makerson smiled, thinking of that love's well-earned 
 guerdon. Real marriage at last, passion fulfilled, wifehood 
 crowned by maternity. And then he said to the young, 
 rising surgeon who had brought him the magnificent news, 
 to whose skilled, patient treatment he would owe the 
 recovery of his manhood : 
 
 "Go to my wife. She is in the drawing-room. Break 
 the news to her, but gently. Joy sometimes kills. ..." 
 
 The face of the rising young surgeon to whom the Major 
 spoke was twisted with a spasm its owner could not repress. 
 He choked back the bitter, ironic laughter that rose in his 
 throat, and went and knocked softly at the door of the 
 drawing-room, that was at the end of the library. The 
 invalid who was to be a well man before long, heard his 
 wife's soft voice say " Come in !" Then the young surgeon 
 entered the drawing-room, and carefully shut the door 
 behind him. And Makerson, listening with all his ears,
 
 THE FOURTH VOLUME 87 
 
 could hear a murmur of voices, but not a word of the col- 
 loquy. He ground his teeth with impatience because the 
 wall of the library and the barrier of that closed, curtained 
 door shut out the interview that would be so like a bit out 
 of a novel or a scene out of a play. . . . 
 
 In his impatience he sat up on his invalid sofa, and the 
 silk rug that covered his legs slipped to the ground. The 
 thought occurred to Makerson, then, to try whether he 
 could stand. . . . 
 
 He achieved the feat. His head swam with triumph 
 and his weakened heart throbbed fast. He was dizzy. 
 He caught at the back rail of a light wheeled-chair for 
 support. It moved, he followed, giddy and faint and 
 dazed with the discovery that he was walking towards that 
 closed door. He reached it, pressed his shoulder against 
 it, panting with the unaccustomed exertion, and it yielded, 
 swinging inwards. He heard Alice's cry of joy — was it 
 joy ? — and then the voice of her thanksgiving broke upon 
 his ears and turned the man to stone. 
 
 " God !" she was saying, over and over in a muffled 
 voice, broken by sobs, " is my long torture never to end ? 
 Have I not been scourged enough for my mad folly ? 
 God ! my God ! — have I not suffered enough ?" 
 
 Her husband saw her. She was on her knees before a low 
 table upon which her arms rested. Her head lay upon them, 
 her bosom was torn, her body was racked, with smothered 
 sobs. And the rising young surgeon stood over her, white- 
 faced and with haggard, desperate eyes of baffled passion, 
 and whispered, as he touched the silky brown hair that 
 sorrow had sown with threads of silver : 
 
 " Take care, or Makerson will hear !" 
 
 " Let him !" she said ; " I do not care ! Know, he must, 
 sooner or later, that I have been a slave who loathed her 
 fetters all the more that they were rivetted by her own 
 hand. But my slavery I could bear patiently, looking for
 
 88 THE FOURTH VOLUME 
 
 deliverance, knowing myself his only in name ! Helpless, 
 I could tend and pity and tolerate him. Strong and well — 
 I should hate him as I did of old !" The man who listened 
 felt the vibration of her shudder. " Was ever a woman 
 cheated as I have been V she went on passionately. " I 
 thought to buy the praise of my world, and the consciousness 
 of being a heroine, at cost of a few weeks of my life. . . . 
 And I have been robbed of seven years ! Years that I 
 
 might, had God been kinder, have spent " 
 
 ' With me /" whispered the man who stooped over her. 
 She broke into a passion of weeping then, and her husband, 
 clinging to the wheeled chair, crept away feebly. He col- 
 lapsed when he reached the invalid couch he had quitted, 
 and fell upon it shuddering and moaning. He felt that 
 this poor disillusioned wretch who suffered had nothing 
 in common with the complacent Makerson of a few moments 
 before. He felt the hands with which he clutched his head 
 as the hands of a stranger. He felt that the man and 
 woman in the adjoining room were strangers too. . . . 
 
 What should he do ? Free his wife at any cost from 
 the bondage she so loathed ? He lifted his tear-stained face 
 and looked at his Service revolvers, hanging with his Sam 
 Browne belt, cavalry sword, and leather scabbard on the 
 opposite wall. The revolvers were loaded still. There 
 were morphia-tabloids in the table-drawer. But he could 
 not forego the life that was coming back to him ; hurrying 
 to meet him with outstretched hands after all these years. 
 And, besides, religion prohibited the act of suicide. A 
 deadly sickness of dread came over him as the handle of the 
 drawing-room door turned and his wife came out, followed 
 by the rising young surgeon who had been her husband's 
 friend and hers. Their set, composed faces told no tales. No 
 scene would take place, no disclosure might be expected. 
 And Makerson, the egoist, drew a breath of relief.
 
 THE FOURTH VOLUME 89 
 
 He might have freed his thrall from the dread that lent 
 fresh poignancy to her torture, by an act of common 
 justice ; a solemn promise to exact no more from her who 
 was bankrupt through him in love and joy and all that 
 makes this life worth living. Four words would have done 
 it, but he never was to speak them. Nor upon her side was 
 any revelation to be made. Silence and self -repression had 
 become habitual to Mrs. Makerson. After that one out- 
 burst, she was dumb upon the subject of her marriage. 
 She who came to her husband now, and touched his sallow 
 forehead with her cold lips, and congratulated him, was 
 to wear her fetters to the day of her death.
 
 IX 
 
 A STUFFED LION 
 
 Mr. Cutts, the pre-eminently respectable septuagenarian 
 head of the long-established and justly-celebrated firm of 
 Cutts, Mesher, and Sons, Military and Civil Tailors, was in 
 his little glass office behind the Bond Street shop when a 
 well-dressed underling knocked at the door. 
 
 " Busy, busy," said Mr. Cutts, bending his gold spec- 
 tacles and neatly-trimmed white beard over the private 
 ledger. " Who is it ?" 
 
 " Mr. Hamblyn, sir, would be glad of a minute's con- 
 versation," said the foreman, in the subdued accents of 
 respect. 
 
 " Has Mr. Hamblyn paid in a cheque on account ? No ? 
 Bad — very bad !" snapped the tailor. " With a debt of 
 over five hundred standing against him on the books, he 
 can't expect any more credit until something substantial 
 has been paid on account. Tell him so . . . or, stop ! 
 Ask him to step this way." 
 
 " Awfully sorry, Cutts," said the pleasant voice of the 
 debtor, as the well-bred, well-made, well-dressed, and little 
 short of gigantic personality of Mr. Hamblyn blocked up 
 the doonvay of the little glass office. " Can I come in ? 
 I think this hutch will hold me if I take off my hat and hold 
 my breath. . . . Look here, my dear man, I meant to 
 come down with the boodle to-day — I did, upon my word ! 
 But circumstances were too strong, and luck dead against 
 me." He lifted his fight moustache at one corner and 
 shook his head meditatively. " I counted on the Liverpool 
 
 90
 
 A STUFFED LION 91 
 
 Meeting," he said, " and what's the result ? Gay Girl ran 
 wide all the way, Burnt Almond turned the tables, and 
 Scalliwag split the pair, though both of 'em ought to 
 have beaten him on their placings at Esher for the Park 
 Plate. Consequently " — he rattled some loose coins and 
 keys in his right-hand trouser pocket — " it's a case of 
 stony." 
 
 The face of the tailor was a study, as he looked up at his 
 customer. 
 
 " Then are we to understand, sir," he began, " that you 
 are absolutely unable to pay anything ?" 
 
 " That's just it !" said the debtor airily. " How quick 
 you are to take things, Cutts !" 
 
 " I might return the compliment, sir," retorted Cutts. 
 " You're pretty quick to take things on credit, and un- 
 commonly slow to pay for them. But so was Sir George 
 before you were born." 
 
 "Then it's a case of heredity," said the handsome 
 young giant, " and the sins of the father are visited on the 
 son. What ?" 
 
 " It'll be the other way about," said Mr. Cutts, with the 
 shadow of a grin under his respectable white moustache, 
 " if Sir George has to pay." 
 
 "Look here — you ain't going to be nasty, are you V 
 said Mr. Hamblyn, with unaffected anxiety. " Because, 
 don't you know, if you are, you'd better say so. I shall be 
 sorry to withdraw my custom, Cutts ; you've turned me 
 out, and turned me out well, ever since I left Sandhurst — 
 and you must own, if you've given me credit " (he cast an 
 approving glance at the faultless, full-length reflection 
 presented within the chastely-gilded frame of a neighbouring 
 mirror), " I've done credit to you." 
 
 " It's true," said Cutts, softening. " But in these times 
 of trade depression we require all the ready money we can 
 get, and, if you will allow me to say it, sir, I shall be
 
 92 A STUFFED LION 
 
 extremely glad when I read the description of your marriage 
 ceremony in the Society papers." 
 
 " Will you, by Jove ?" said Mr. Hamblyn, with a long, 
 plaintive whistle. 
 
 " If I don't commit an indiscretion in saying so," went 
 on Mr. Cutts, " the lady is known to be uncommonly 
 wealthy. That knowledge, sir, has supported us in the 
 absence of your cheques." 
 
 " The deuce it has !" cried Hamblyn pettishly, rapping 
 the ledger-desk with the crook of his stick. " Oh, come, 
 Cutts ! you can't say that I was ever such a mongrel as 
 to get fresh credit on the strength of being engaged to an 
 heiress ! No decent man would dream of such a thing !" 
 
 " Perhaps not, sir," admitted Mr. Cutts, who knew human 
 nature better than his customer. " But, still, the know- 
 ledge of an approaching change for the better in a customer's 
 prospects weighs with us. It's only to be expected." 
 
 " At any rate," said Hamblyn, flicking a grain of dust 
 from his immaculate sleeve, " I'd better tell you candidly 
 that my prospects aren't going to be changed. My engage- 
 ment with the lady to whom you refer is broken off." 
 
 " Broken off !" Mr. Cutts pursed up his mouth and 
 shook his head severely. "This is very sad and regret- 
 table, Mr. Hamblyn," he said. ' Dear me ! This quite 
 alters the complexion of things. I must consult the firm, 
 sir, and communicate with you later." He opened the 
 glass door of the office, indicating that the interview was 
 over. But Mr. Hamblyn did not move. 
 
 " Considering that you're to blame for the collapse of 
 the whole thing," he said, " I don't think, Cutts, you're 
 particularly sympathetic." 
 
 ' I fail to compre'end you, Mr. Hamblyn," said Mr. Cutts, 
 
 who under the influence of emotion occasionally dropped 
 
 an " h." " To state that you consider us responsible in 
 
 any way for the change in the lady's sentiments is, to say
 
 A STUFFED LION 93 
 
 the least of it, an extraordinary charge. I must ask you 
 to explain your meaning." 
 
 " I will !" said Mr. Hamblyn. He rapped with his stick 
 upon the fat parchment stomach of the order-book upon 
 the tailor's desk. " Turn to L, and look up Lullingham 
 of the Hibernian Guards, will you ? He began to deal 
 with you, say, three months ago, when he resigned the 
 command of Lullingham's Light Horse, the regiment of 
 Roughriders he raised and equipped in '99, when the 
 South African racket began ; and accepted a regular com- 
 mission with his D.S.O. I sent him to you myself — and 
 much good it's done me !" he added indignantly, as 
 Mr. Cutts smacked open the ledger and deftly skimmed 
 over the pages. 
 
 " Captain Grandleigh Lullingham, Guards Club and 
 Halsingham House Chambers. A customer of ours, cer- 
 tainly, and recommended by you, as you say. Extremely 
 tall, fine-looking gentleman." 
 
 " I know he's a fine fellow ! — a finer fellow by far, morally 
 and physically, than I could ever hope to be," said Hamblyn 
 discontentedly. " Don't rub it in !" 
 
 " I said fme-looJang, if you'll excuse my correcting you, 
 Mr. Hamblyn," retorted Cutts. 
 
 " It comes to the same thing," said Mr. Hamblyn, 
 yawning drearily. 
 
 " Well, no, sir — if you'll excuse me again. But Captain 
 Lullingham is a stylish figure — very stylish indeed — and 
 four inches in 'ighth superior to yourself, and carries off a 
 well-cut frock-coat better than any customer on our books, 
 yourself excepted." 
 
 " Leave me out of it," said Hamblyn. " Acknowledged 
 you turn out Lullingham, and you turn him out well. 
 Unluckily, in turning him out, you've turned out Me ! For 
 he's the better-made and the bigger man of the two, and 
 Lady Regina — I should say, the lady of whom you spoke
 
 94 A STUFFED LION 
 
 just now — went over to that opinion a week ago. Like all 
 the women of the Rippingworth lot, you might blow three 
 of 'em away with one squiff of a tyre-pump — they're so 
 fragile and ethereal and all that ! — she's death on a taille 
 d'athlete, and Lullingham — six feet six, and with a chest 
 like a bull, by Gad !— Lullingham fills the bill. Well ! she's 
 pleased, and so is he, if I ain't. And it was never a regular 
 engagement. Morning !" Mr. Hamblyn nodded and went 
 away. 
 
 " Stop ! Mr. Hamblyn, sir !" said the tailor excitedly. 
 But Hamblyn was in Bond Street by the time Cutts reached 
 the shop door. 
 
 " What made me give myself away like that — and to old 
 Cutts, too ?" the young giant muttered between his teeth. 
 " My brain must be going soft. There's Reggy in her vic- 
 toria ! Oh, Reggy, you cruel little darling, you've treated 
 me infernally, and you ought to suffer for it !" he added, as 
 a fragile, ethereal vision, all white and pink and golden, 
 was whirled past by a couple of splendid bays. The front 
 seat of the victoria was obscured by the colossal personality 
 of Lullingham. Lady Regina pulled a tiny little white 
 hand out of her great sable muff, and kissed it to her dis- 
 carded lover as she went by. Her lap was full of Neapolitan 
 violets, and her blue eyes beamed with happiness. She 
 looked as innocent and as joyous as a child with a large new 
 toy. 
 
 " You can't expect me to suffer agonies of remorse, Toby 
 dear," she had said in answer to Hamblyn's passionate 
 reproaches. " Grandy is simply splendid, and I adore him. 
 I adored you before he and I met — that is all. Don't you 
 see how lucky it is you and I are not to be married ? Oh, 
 you must ! Because men hate scandal even worse than 
 women ; and I should have made hay of our connubial vows, 
 I feel certain. How can a woman resist a man who can
 
 A STUFFED LION 95 
 
 take her up in one hand and walk off with her if he wants to ? 
 You're an angel when you lift a polo pony or bend a poker ; 
 and I simply worshipped you when you bit a piece out of a 
 pewter pot that day when you carried off the high- jump 
 competition at the Thews and Smews Club Sports. By 
 the way, I've got the piece now, with your name engraved 
 on it ; and some other woman will be proud to wear it one 
 day if you like to have it back ? . . . But you're not six 
 feet six, and you can get in at an ordinary kind of door 
 without turning sideways. Now, Grandy can't ! You 
 know the amount of sensation he creates wherever he goes. 
 One can't resist looking — and looking again. And then he 
 did such sensational, dashing things at the Front, with his 
 Roughriders." 
 
 ' While I was lying under canvas at Mealief ontein fighting 
 enteric and carrion flies. . . . But that's the fortune of war, 
 Reggy," put in the poor fellow pleadingly. " One man 
 gets the floor and the flourish, and the other the flies and 
 the fever. And it took four hospital orderlies to hold me 
 down, even when I hadn't had anything but milk for a 
 fortnight. Though I'm not strong enough, now I'm fit, to 
 keep you /" 
 
 And she had sent him back the ring, and his presents, and 
 the piece of pewter plate. He wondered what shape Lulling- 
 ham's generosity had taken. Not for a moment did he belie ve 
 that his rival's wealth had weighed in the balance when 
 Regina's heart passed over to its new possessor. Like her fair 
 prototype Delilah, she liked a Samson — that was all. Here 
 came Samson, striding along the pavement, his immense 
 personality causing an eddy in the stream of fashionably- 
 dressed afternoon strollers, attracting the envious glances 
 of the men he dwarfed by contrast, and the admiring looks 
 of the women he reduced to dwarfs. Certainly Lulling- 
 ham was a superb specimen of manhood, as far as height 
 and depth of chest, and breadth of shoulder went. His
 
 96 A STUFFED LION 
 
 face was rather too haggard, bronzed, and thin, and his 
 neck and hands too veinous and sinewy, for beauty. But 
 Regina was right — he was worth looking at. Wherever he 
 might be, he would command universal attention. So 
 would the Eiffel Tower ! 
 
 A faint smile dawned on Hamblyn's face at the idea of 
 Regina succumbing to the attractions of the Eiffel Tower. 
 " She'd throw over Lullingham to marry it if it could only 
 walk and talk and wear Cutts's frock-coats and thingum- 
 bobs," he reflected, as Lullingham passed him with a cheery 
 nod. " Hang him ! he can afford to look pleasant !" he 
 added, glancing over his shoulder in time to see his suc- 
 cessful rival bend almost double in the act of entering 
 the tailor's shop. Some benevolent fairy it was — it must 
 have been — that caused Hamblyn to turn back and re-enter 
 the same chastely- decorated portals. 
 
 He looked round the shop, entering. A subdued light 
 from above fell upon the half-dozen customers who were 
 selecting trouserings with the assistance of Mr. Cutts's 
 young men, but Lullingham was not to be seen, though 
 the deep rumble of his resonant bass voice could be heard 
 from an inner apartment devoted to trying-on. And then, 
 just as Hamblyn was about to make an excuse and go 
 away, wondering why he had been such an ass as to follow 
 Lullingham, Mr. Cutts touched him on the elbow. He 
 turned, wondering why the usually placid man exhibited 
 such excitement. 
 
 " You — you're an old customer, sir," stammered Cutts, 
 " and though it's against all the etiquette of the trade to 
 betray a client's confidence, I'm going to do it ! You will 
 please to utter no exclamation or betray surprise while on 
 the premises, and I shall look to you not to give me away 
 if you should decide to employ the — the information gained 
 in any way likely to be beneficial to your position and im- 
 proving to your prospects. Is it a bargain ?" 

 
 A STUFFED LION 97 
 
 " Done with you !" said Hamblyn, without the faintest 
 notion of the tailor's meaning. 
 
 " This way, then, sir," said Cutts. He led his rather 
 mystified customer into a small apartment lined with 
 looking-glasses, and containing a chair, a small table, a 
 measuring-tape, a piece of chalk, a hat-rack, and a brass 
 bowl containing pins. From the other side of the partition 
 came the deep, booming drum-notes of Lullingham's voice. 
 
 " Why," — Hamblyn was beginning, when Cutts made an 
 imploring gesture for silence. Then the tailor swung out 
 a hinged looking-glass from the wall, and pointed to a 
 little knot-hole in the matchboarding behind it. It was 
 just the size to accommodate a human eye. Hamblyn 
 knelt down and fitted one of his optics to the aperture. 
 
 The compartment adjoining contained Cutts 's head 
 fitter, a bearded Swiss ; a pale and pimpled assistant, whose 
 coat-lapels were studded with pins ; and Lullingham, 
 devoid of upper garments, and looking extraordinarily 
 thin and narrow-chested. The frock-coat the hero had 
 taken off was the subject of animated discussion, as it sat 
 upright on the table in a curiously independent and solid 
 way, instead of relapsing into limp folds like an ordinary 
 garment. Why did Lullingham's frock-coat, Lullingham 
 no longer inhabiting it, behave in this extraordinary 
 fashion ? Might not some optical illusion in connection 
 with the knot-hole through which the observer peered be 
 responsible for the strange behaviour of the garment as 
 for the extraordinarily narrow, gaunt, and lathy appearance 
 of its wearer ? At this juncture a voice — the voice of 
 Mr. Cutts — hissed a single word in the ear of Hamblyn — 
 
 " Padded !" 
 
 " By the living Tinker, so he is !" burst from Hamblyn. 
 But before other unguarded expressions could escape him, 
 Mr. Cutts, with wonderful strength considering his vener- 
 able years, dragged the incautious young man away. 
 
 7
 
 98 A STUFFED LION 
 
 " Padded, sir, as you say. Lamb's wool and steel springs 
 throughout, though you'd never dream of suspecting from 
 the exterior point of view, it's so artistically done. We — 
 oh, no ! — we don't profess that kind of thing. He gets his 
 shapes made by a Parisian firm, and a fortune they must 
 cost. Why, from his neck to his ankles he's nothing but 
 a magnificent imposture. . . . I'd defy anything shorter 
 than a hatpin to reach the real Captain under those layers 
 and . . . No, he doesn't suffer from heat, apparently, 
 but he gets thinner and thinner. A mere framework of 
 bones, sir, and we hang clothes upon it. And now, if, as 
 you say, you have been ousted from your place in the 
 affections of a lady you hoped to marry by the Captain's 
 biceps and the Captain's chest, prove to her that they're 
 only stuffing, and she'll ask you to forgive her on her bended 
 knees !" 
 
 It must be set down to Toby Hamblyn's credit that he 
 resisted temptation. 
 
 " You mean well, Cutts, and I suppose I ought to be 
 obliged to you, but I can't make use of this. You see, 
 Lullingham may be the mere framework of a man, but he 
 is a man, and a brother-officer, and I'm bound to respect 
 his secret ! He may be — I've reason to believe he is — a 
 living skeleton, faked up with cotton-wool and watch- 
 springs, but he's a plucky fellow, and a fine fellow ; and if 
 he does pad like an elderly ballet-girl, he didn't do it 
 because he was afraid of Boer bullets, by George ! Of 
 course, I can't expect you to take things in my way, or 
 to understand that I should like to kick myself for having 
 looked through that spyhole. Thanks all the same, 
 though ! Good- day to you !" And he strode out of the 
 shop. Before it waited the victoria of his faithless beloved. 
 
 " Why, Toby, aren't you going to shake hands," cried 
 Lady Regina. She smiled and sparkled like a fay in a rain- 
 bow as she leaned out of her carriage and gave the hapless
 
 A STUFFED LION 99 
 
 young man two little white gloves, warm from her muff, 
 to keep for an instant. " I'm waiting for Grandy," she 
 went on. " Quite like a dutiful wife, isn't it ? We are 
 going on to Prince's as soon as he has finished trying on 
 his pretty new frock. Have you been ordering more ex- 
 pensive things, you bad boy ? But you'll look such a dear 
 in them that I'll forgive you. Shall you care to drop in 
 at the Siddons Theatre to-night ? The first night of a new 
 play, and I've got a box. The Hollow World, it's called — 
 the play, I mean. Sounds grue, doesn't it ? And dismy V 
 
 " It ought to suit me !" said Hamblyn, with rather a 
 ghastly smile. 
 
 Lady Regina inspected his features with interest. 
 
 " You are off colour," she announced as a discovery. 
 " Don't say you've been letting a damask worm gnaw at 
 your something cheek, as Viola says in Twelfth Night. 
 So absurd ! . . . and, besides, I'm not worth it. Train and 
 towel, and bite pieces out of pewter pots, and make all the 
 women admire you. You've a clear field — now." Her 
 cruel little dimple added — " now Grandy 's out of the 
 running!' 5 
 
 Stung to the quick, Hamblyn retorted : 
 ' Women's admiration doesn't count over and above, 
 I'm beginning to believe. Whether one's a real man or a 
 stuffed dummy doesn't matter to 'em much as long as the 
 outside's all right. Show and glitter — that's all you care 
 for, children as you are. Children — ah ! and savages as 
 well. Didn't you wear real jewels as well as strings of 
 coloured-glass beads all last season 1 Wherever one went, 
 the beastly things were crunching under one's feet." 
 
 " As you wish you could scrunch me — judging by your 
 scowl. Really, Toby, you ought to go on the stage — your 
 electrocution, as Jinny's little Monty calls it, would make 
 your fortune." 
 
 She was offended ; her blue eyes sparkled like icicles.
 
 100 A STUFFED LION 
 
 Then the ice melted as the shop-door opened, and the 
 magnificent figure of Grandleigh Lullingham appeared upon 
 the threshold, Mr. Cutts bowing at his elbow. The quick 
 eyes behind the aged sartorial artist's gold-rimmed spec- 
 tacles took in the victoria, Lady Regina, and the pale and 
 moody Hamblyn at a glance. 
 
 " To-night, without fail, the garment shall be sent home. 
 Gratified to have given you satisfaction, sir ! With such 
 a figure as yours to stimulate the imagination of the 
 fitter. . . . Pray, mind the door-lintel — these premises 
 were hardly designed for customers of your proportions." 
 The tailor rubbed his hands, and smiled and bowed again. 
 
 " Well, perhaps not !" said Lullingham, not displeased. 
 
 " Coming, Grandy ?" shrilled Lady Regina. 
 
 " One second, Captain !" Mr. Cutts whipped a little 
 shining instrument from his waistcoat pocket, and clicked 
 it open in his hand. " You're a little creased, sir," he said, 
 in a rapid undertone. " Permit me ! . . ." Elevating 
 himself on tiptoe, he rapidly ran his skilled professional 
 hands over Lullingham's breast and shoulder, following the 
 outline of the upper seams of his immaculate frock-coat, 
 and gave a rapid twitch to the garment at the back. " We 
 did not make this /" he said, with a disclaiming shrug. 
 " There, sir ! It sits more elegantly now ! Pray excuse 
 me ! Good afternoon !" 
 
 And as Lullingham, with a careless nod to Hamblyn, 
 stowed his tremendous length of leg away in Lady Regina's 
 victoria, and, smiling rapturously into the blue eyes of 
 that fair weathercock, was whirled away Piccadillywards, 
 the tailor watched the retreating carriage over the coats of 
 arms emblazoned on the lower half of his glass door. 
 
 " I've done it !" he said ; and as he spoke he closed a tiny 
 little tortoiseshell penknife, and returned it to his waistcoat 
 pocket. " If it gives in the seams — as I've made pretty 
 sure it will — we are not responsible for the accident. The
 
 A STUFFED LION 101 
 
 Captain would never dream of connecting it with us. 
 And if it gives at the right moment, when her ladyship hap- 
 pens to be looking sweet at him, she'll — that is, she ought 
 to — smell rats and cry off, and take on Mr. H. again. If 
 she does, we shall get our money ; if she don't, we may 
 whistle for it, as far as my experience goes." 
 
 Thus Mr. Cutts mused as Lady Regina and her lover 
 were whirled westwards. 
 
 "Poor Toby looked down in the mouth, didn't he ?" 
 she said. " He doesn't grumble much, but I believe he 
 grouses inwardly." 
 
 " He has reason to grouse," returned Lullingham, leaning 
 forward to look deep into the blue eyes — his own, which 
 were black and rather hollow, glowing with the pride of 
 the triumphant wooer : " Hasn't he lost you ?" 
 
 " Sit up straight, and don't look so consciously posses- 
 sive," she commanded. 
 
 " Regina !" sighed Lullingham, bringing his face nearer 
 to hers. There was a slight rending sound, which neither 
 lady or lover noticed. " I cannot believe my own happi- 
 ness," he continued with passionate fervour. " I cannot 
 find words in which to tell you how wildly I worship you. 
 Ah, my darling !" He bent nearer, and his hot breath 
 stirred the sables of the muff she raised as a barrier between 
 their lips. " You will never know " — his tremendous 
 chest heaved with a volcanic sigh — " you will never know 
 all that is hidden here, buried under " 
 
 Oracle ! 
 
 He sat bolt upright in an instant, but the mischief was 
 done. The shoulder-seams of his tightly fitting frock-coat, 
 secretly slit by the treacherous penknife of the plotter 
 Cutts, had gone by the board — the sleeves themselves had 
 parted from their moorings, there was a gaping slit upon 
 the warrior's manly bosom, and ' 
 
 " Oh, oh, oh !" cried Lady Regina, pale beneath her
 
 i02 A STUFFED LION 
 
 delicately tinted powder, and with blue eyes opened to 
 their utmost capacity. For the yawning cracks and 
 widening crevasses disgorged the woolly secret of her 
 Grandy's glorious physique. And, irresistibly reminded of 
 the days when her chief delight consisted in the disem- 
 bowelment of fluffy lambs and bran-stuffed dolls, she burst 
 into a peal of mad hysterical laughter ; while Lullingham, 
 upon whom the ghastly betrayal had broken like a moral 
 waterspout, cried hoarsely to the coachman to stop ! 
 Before that functionary could obey, however, he had mut- 
 tered an unintelligible excuse, bowed, sprung from the 
 carriage, and leapt into a passing hansom, which whirled 
 him out of Regina's heart for ever. 
 
 She cried a little when she reached home, and snubbed 
 her maid for recommending a dinner-gown which had been 
 a favourite with her vanished lover, putting on instead a 
 ravishing garment which Toby Hamblyn had been wont 
 to praise. And after dinner she broke another engage- 
 ment, and went on to another house where she was certain 
 to meet him. There he was, towering above the crowd, 
 his six feet two inches of stature seeming wonderfully 
 imposing in the absence of the — the oilier. 
 
 " Hallo !" he exclaimed. " You don't mean to say it's 
 you ? And alone !" 
 
 " I never said it was me," observed Lady Regina. She 
 smiled on him deliciously, quite in the old way. 
 
 " There are so many of you," retorted poor Toby, over 
 whose brain the old intoxication was already asserting its 
 sway, " that, of course, you can't be quite certain which 
 of you you happen to be just at this moment." He looked 
 so solid and genuine, so splendid a specimen of muscular 
 young manhood, that Lady Regina felt her heart flutter 
 up and settle down on its old perch again as she said : " I 
 am the one of me you used to like best, Toby. Come and 
 let us look at the tree-ferns in the conservatory."
 
 A STUFFED LION 103 
 
 So they went. Tree-ferns are convenient things. When 
 Lady Regina finished her confession, and the forgiving 
 Toby, with a choking cry of relief and rapture, clasped her 
 fragile little person to his stalwart breast, they were par- 
 ticularly so. 
 
 " Oh, is it true ? You care for me again !" he cried. 
 " You've given the Living Skeleton the shake !" 
 
 " Captain Lullingham understands quite clearly," said 
 Lady Regina, " that I shall never marry him. But why 
 do you call him the Living Skeleton ?" 
 
 " I — don't know," mumbled Hamblyn. " Tell me, 
 Reggy, did you quarrel ?" he asked. 
 
 His beloved moved a little restlessly in his embrace. 
 
 " I once thought him good and noble," she explained. 
 " But — only this afternoon, it burst upon me in a flash that 
 he was not quite genuine all through ! Why are you 
 laughing ? Yes, you are — it's useless to say no !" For the 
 broad chest upon which her cheek reposed was shaken by 
 subterranean chuckles. 
 
 " Perhaps I did do a smile," Hamblyn owned. " The 
 chap who wins can afford to, don't you know ? Darling, 
 tell me once again you're mine, really and truly mine, or I 
 shall believe this is all a dream, and that neither of us are 
 real — a bit ! Good Christmas ! what was that ?" he 
 shouted, wincing in agony from a pointed prod. 
 
 " Only a little, common, everyday brooch-pin, pet !" 
 murmured Regina caressingly. 
 
 " But you stuck it into my shoulder an inch deep !" said 
 the happy lover. 
 
 " To make sure that you are real, darling," she explained, 
 as she gave their second betrothal loss.
 
 X 
 
 THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 
 
 Who does not know the County Gentleman's Club, that 
 solidly respectable facade whose area balconies are orna- 
 mented with bronze cornucopias, occurring at regular 
 intervals and piled to overflowing with objects resembling 
 the turnip, the vegetable marrow, the mangold-wurzel, and 
 other homely fruits of the earth ? The largest barometer 
 in London hangs in the entrance-hall ; and if the adult male 
 servants look like farm-bailiffs in livery, the bell-boys are 
 rubicund as plough-lads, and the housemaids plump and 
 roseate as lasses of the country dairy. 
 
 Upon a certain morning in March a hale and cheerful 
 personage, of a fur-coated and prosperous appearance, 
 was about to ascend the stately flight of steps leading to 
 the Club portals when, suddenly recognizing the face of 
 an acquaintance beneath a hat that was somewhat the 
 worse for wear, he paused, and, holding out his hand, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Good Gad ! Freddy Fellitoe !" 
 
 The young man thus addressed showed a decent set of 
 teeth in a pleasant smile that lifted a still silky but too 
 ragged fair moustache a good deal at the corners. His 
 clothes were seedy, and he was without an overcoat, 
 points which the man who had hailed him was quick to 
 note. Also his face was haggard and hollow-cheeked, his 
 linen was passe, and he wore in his cuffs links of common 
 bone. In his left hand he carried a small and shabby bag, 
 which he appeared to cherish with peculiar care. His 
 
 104
 
 THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 105 
 
 boots were in keeping with the rest of his attire, though so 
 brilliantly blacked that their shininess brought them aggres- 
 sively into the foreground, and intensified the faded neutral 
 tones of the rest of the picture. In addition to this they 
 were much too large for the young man, and their toes 
 curled upwards with something of a mediaeval effect. 
 But the wearer of the boots was as bright as they were. 
 He shook hands three times with his newly-found friend 
 — who was, indeed, a landholder and J.P. of weight and 
 substance in Freddy's own native county — and asked after 
 " the mater and the girls ?" 
 
 " Saw 'em at Church on Christmas Day. Your mother 
 looked out of condition ; but your sisters, Dolly and May, 
 were awfully fit. Why don't you run down and see them ? 
 They'd be awfully glad " 
 
 " Would they ?" Freddy's tone was pointed with deli- 
 cate incredulity. He glanced downwards at his frayed 
 buttonholes and Isabella-coloured cuffs, and turned his 
 clear eyes, of childlike and innocent blue, back upon the 
 face of the other man. 
 
 " Of course," said the other man, flushing a healthy 
 beet ; " you could borrow a tenner and freshen up." His 
 finger and thumb hovered over his diaphragm, the outline 
 of the notecase beneath seemed to delineate itself in un- 
 mistakable lines upon the surface of his fur-lined overcoat. 
 " When I say borrow," he explained, " I don't mean a 
 loan " 
 
 " I know what you mean," said the young man in second- 
 hand boots, " and you're a brick, Sir Crowell. But I've 
 not got to squeezing the pater's old friends — yet — though 
 my sense of what's good form and what isn't has — let us 
 say — deteriorated since I began to carry about a per- 
 manent appetite." 
 
 " My dear fellow !" interrupted the well-fed other man, 
 " you don't mean to say you're " He collared Freddy
 
 106 THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 
 
 with a strong hand. " Como in to lunch, you young idiot, 
 come in " 
 
 " Gently ! That's a paper collar !" warned the invited 
 guest. Then, as the other man released him in alarm, he 
 went on : "I am infernally sharp-set, I don't deny, and if 
 you're not ashamed of my clothes " 
 
 " Of course," cried the hospitable Samaritan. Then 
 he choked, and, with a deepening complexion, said : " But 
 of course — you know — Boulter is a member of the Club. 
 It won't upset you if he's dining here, will it ? He always 
 uses the table next mine." 
 
 "Does he?" The corners of Freddy's moustache 
 curled cheerily, the dancing light in his blue eyes ex- 
 pressed anything but discomfiture. " Don't be afraid. 
 Boulter won't upset me !" he said. " As it happens, I was 
 coming here to look for him ; and as I've a notion that he'd 
 refuse to see me, you're giving me the very opportunity 
 I want !" 
 
 " Done, then !" said the Samaritan. " But it's under- 
 stood you won't make a scene, or — or anything of that kind. 
 I've my own opinion of Boulter ; but a row in the Club, 
 and newspaper pars., and all that beastliness " 
 
 The crystalline purity of the prodigal's gaze silenced him. 
 
 " I won't make any row !" said Freddy. " There shall 
 be peace, perfect peace, from the first spoonful of soup to 
 the last cheese-straw. Besides, who knows whether the 
 olive-branch may not sprout, and the tomahawk be buried 
 on this auspiciously opening day ?" 
 
 The other man shook his head. 
 
 " I should be glad to think that, Freddy ; but I know 
 Boulter. We all — everybody knows Boulter. What he 
 gets he keeps ! My boj 7 s were at Eton in Boulter's time 
 and yours ; they know something of that very estimable 
 young man. Besides — the Fellitoe entail has been cut off — 
 in consequence of — ahem ! and your debts have been settled
 
 THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 107 
 
 — and what was left over you've had — and spent, it's pretty 
 plain from the look of you. But Boulter would only ask 
 you why, when you knew you weren't going to get any 
 more, you didn't husband what you'd got ? He wouldn't 
 lend you, or give you, enough to buy a new paper collar. 
 Better take the tenner I spoke of, and — and perhaps I can 
 find another or so when that's gone !" 
 
 " I'll bet you the tenner Boulter disgorges twenty before 
 the day's over. I forgot, though— I can't pay you if I 
 lose ; but I shan't lose. I am going to start in a new and 
 lucrative line of business, and Boulter is going to give me 
 a pecuniary leg-up out of brotherly love and goodwill. 
 Perhaps, as he is gifted with a keen commercial instinct, 
 he will propose to buy me out. What do you bet me he 
 doesn't ?" asked Freddy, his blue eyes dancing under his 
 bad hat-brim, and his aged, aggressively shiny boots 
 performing a little step-dance upon the pavement. 
 
 " You're cold and badly -fed, and light-headed in conse- 
 quence," said the other man. " Come and take in ballast, 
 and don't talk rot !" He placed his elbow behind Freddy's 
 with a scientific air, and conducted his seedily-attired 
 guest into the Club. 
 
 " Good Lord !" said Freddy, as the soup, fish, and joint 
 concealed about his rather fine-drawn personality com- 
 menced their genial work of renovation, and the third glass 
 of champagne brought colour to his cheek, " what a thing 
 it is to eat again !" He toyed with a rum omelette, and 
 did not disdain aged Stilton. As the last fragment of this 
 ripe speciality was actively endeavouring to elude his 
 pursuant knife, the swing-doors of the dining-room ad- 
 mitted a bullet-headed, pale-faced young man in pepper- 
 and-salt tweeds, red necktie, and drab spats, who was, in 
 fact, Boulter, Freddy's junior by a year. But that a 
 corpulent old gentleman followed close upon his rather 
 projecting heels, Boulter — who recognized Freddy instan-
 
 108 THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 
 
 taneously — would have been as good as his name. But, 
 impelled forward, over the india-rubber draught-mat by 
 the elastic rotundity behind him, Boulter was denied re- 
 treat. He walked sullenly forward, nodding bluffly to 
 Freddy's host and sulkily to Freddy, as he took his seat 
 at the next table. 
 
 " Creme de Velours !" said Freddy reflectively, as the 
 coffee dispensed its fragrance and the waiter filled the 
 liqueur-glasses. "And — do they let you smoke in here ? 
 If so — I'd like one of those Regalias of yours, that used to 
 knock me over like a skittle when I was seventeen." He 
 lighted the weed, and, as the blue smoke curled round his 
 fair, ingenuous brow, the tail of his blue eye, under cover 
 of the perfumed cloud, rested upon his brother. " When 
 I'm fairly started in that new business I told you of, and 
 beginning to make money by fistfuls, I shall trouble you 
 for the address of your tobacconist," he said. " At present 
 I smoke ' Caporal's ' at f ourpence a packet, and very decent 
 value." 
 
 " Ah — speaking of that business," said Sir Crowell, con- 
 scious that Boulter's large, rather misshapen ears were 
 open and greedy, " one would like to know something 
 about it?" 
 
 " It's a Limited Liability concern," explained the prodigal 
 gravely, " and the Firm is represented by Me. I'm going 
 to set up, in fact, as a ' Teller of Tales.' " 
 
 " ' A Teller of Tales ' ? Do you mean to set up as a 
 raconteur of the professional kind ?" asked Freddy's host ; 
 " and, if so, how are you going to get anything out of it ?" 
 
 "The Hindus and Persians make the thing pay," 
 explained Freddy, " and why shouldn't I ? Mine will be 
 Arabian Days instead of Arabian Nights, that's all. And 
 I guarantee that they will not contain a single reference 
 calculated to bring a blush of sensibility to the cheek of 
 seven-and-thirty. I'll tip you a specimen, if you like," 

 
 THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 109 
 
 he continued. " The title is rather taking. I call it ' The 
 History of the Young Man and the Cowskin Bag.' " 
 
 There was a slight noise at the next table. Mr. Boulter 
 Fellitoe had knocked over a pepper-castor. Freddy waited 
 until the article had been replaced, and then began smoothly 
 and rapidly : 
 
 " During the reign of the Kaisar-i-Hind there dwelt in 
 a country province of that monarch's kingdom a landed 
 proprietor, a devout Mussulman, who had two sons. The 
 elder was of pleasing appearance but prodigal habits, and 
 his poor old pater — I mean his devout parent — used 
 frequently to warn him, saying, ' Son, by my beard, you 
 will one day go to the dogs !' dogs being, in the opinion 
 of Mussulmans, impure animals." Freddy finished his 
 liqueur. 
 
 " Hoyster sauce, sir V said the waiter at Boulter's 
 elbow. 
 
 ; ' But the prodigal young man persisted in having a 
 high old time, and the devout Mussulman naturally kicked 
 at paying his debts," Freddy went on. " So, when very 
 much pressed for metal, he hied him to tho usurers quarter 
 in the city of Balsorah, and borrowed at about nine hundred 
 per cent. And, after many moons, being pressed to pay 
 the interest on a little bill, he confided his embarrassments 
 to his younger brother," said Freddy, " a youth who was 
 the very flower of piety and eye of discretion. And the 
 virtuous one spoke to his brother in distress, saying, ' A 
 writing for seven hundred shiners has just been given mo 
 by our father as a reward for the moral excellences which I 
 possess in such abundance. Take thou the writing, obtain 
 the cash, and of the seven hundred remit me five hundred 
 shiners in gold. The other two retain, with the blessing 
 of Allah !'" 
 
 " Freddy," said Freddy's host in a whisper, " is there 
 any use in raking all that up ? You "
 
 110 THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 
 
 But Freddy did not hear. He went on : " Then the young 
 man took the paper and the blessing, and procured the cash, 
 and brought home the five hundred shiners in a cowskin 
 bag, and gave them to his generous junior when nobody 
 was by. And then, being relieved in inind by the lighten- 
 ing of his difficulties, he sought the neighbouring city of 
 Balsorah, and was sitting at a feast in company with his 
 friends when the officers of the Cadi seized him " 
 
 " Look here, Freddy," his host was beginning. 
 
 Boulter sat hunched over his plate at the next table as 
 if in the act of feeding, but his heavy jaws were still. 
 
 " He was pinched by the police — arrested by the Cadi's 
 men, I mean — on a charge of forgery and embezzlement," 
 said Freddy. " For the cheque — the writing given by 
 the aged parental Mussulman to his virtuous younger son 
 had originally been for seventy pounds — I mean shiners, 
 and the amount had been beautifully and skilfully in- 
 creased to seven hundred by the art of a gifted penman. 
 The elder young Mussulman denied having done this, but 
 appearances were against him, especially when his virtuous 
 younger brother " 
 
 " Roast beef or leg of mutton, sir ?" asked the waiter. 
 
 Boulter, at the next table, made no reply. He pointed 
 with a heavy, shaking finger to an item on the menu — and 
 the waiter went away to get it. 
 
 " His virtuous younger brother swore to having indorsed 
 and handed him the cheque for seventy. Of the five 
 hundred sovereigns in the cowskin bag he flatly denied 
 all knowledge, and the elder young Mussulman found 
 himself in a deuce of a hole. Nobody believed him any- 
 thing but a blackguard, except one — one girl ! — and she 
 was threatened with bread and water and the bastinado 
 if she stuck up for him. But she braved it out like a plucky 
 little Mussulwoman," said Freddy, with a shake in his 
 voice, " and God bless her for it !"
 
 THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 111 
 
 " We weren't as hard on her as you seem to think," said 
 Freddy's host ; " but go on, my boy !" 
 
 " Take away this filthy stuff, and get me something I 
 can eat !" snarled Boulter at the next table. 
 
 " In the ordinary course of things the Bank would have 
 prosecuted, and the supposed forger and thief would have 
 been tried, and probably sent to penal servitude — I mean, 
 condemned for life to row in the Sultan's galleys " — went 
 on Freddy, " but that the family, egged on by the virtuous 
 younger brother, I should guess, stopped the mouth of the 
 bank by paying up, filled the mouths of the Cadi's men 
 with gold, and prevailed upon the accused thief to accept 
 banishment instead of public disgrace. His debts they 
 paid, cut off the entail of the property, and, giving him a 
 few hundreds, bade him depart, with the blessing of Allah. 
 Then he became an outcast, and when the pater — I mean 
 the aged Mussulman — died, in a year or two, the virtuous 
 younger brother scooped the pool." 
 
 " Waiter !" broke in Boulter's hoarse voice, " get me a 
 glass of brandy, and give me the bill." 
 
 " But," Freddy went on, in rather louder tones, " though 
 the prodigal elder was practically a ruined man, he some- 
 times allowed himself to hope that his innocence might be 
 established. If, for instance, he could get hold of that 
 cowskin bag which his beloved younger brother had lent 
 him to bring back those five hundred jimmies — I mean 
 shiners — in. I don't know why he was convinced of this, 
 but he was — and one day " 
 
 The chair at the neighbouring table scraped back. 
 Boulter got up. 
 
 " Sit down !" said Freddy, in calm, even tones, without 
 turning his head or changing his expression by a hair's 
 breadth, " or by God I'll make you !" 
 
 As Boulter obeyed, he proceeded. 
 ' This brings me to the story of ' The Peri under the
 
 112 THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 
 
 Archway.' May I have another liqueur ? Thanks ! The 
 prodigal young man, having got through all his remaining 
 shiners, and having been rendered by a public-school and 
 University education incapable of earning anymore, even if 
 he had had a decent character to his back, met under an arch- 
 way, one dark night, with a Peri possessed by Djins. The 
 Djins had done their work so thoroughly, and the Peri 
 was so much more like a damp roll of old rags soaked in 
 liquor than a human being, that at first the young man 
 didn't recognize her as the once pretty young wife of a man 
 who was a former tenant of the old Mussulman's. She 
 had disappeared a month or two before his own smash. 
 Now she turned up again just in the nick of time. . . . 
 Would you ?" 
 
 " I wasn't moving !" said the sulky voice behind Freddy. 
 
 " I have eyes in the back of my head — for you," said 
 Freddy ; " so down, you hound, and don't stir until I tell 
 you to !" 
 
 "Go on !" said Freddy's host, in an intensely eager 
 voice. " Good heavens, man ! if you hint at any dis- 
 covery " 
 
 <( 
 
 There's none to make !" said the quavering, sulkj^ 
 tones of Boulter ; " I swear there's not !" 
 
 " Shall I go on, Sir Crowell ?" said Freddy, " or will 
 you take your future son-in-law on trust ?" 
 
 " You've heard that ?" Sir Crowell flushed purple to 
 the crown of his handsome bald head. 
 
 " I have ears all over me — where she is concerned," said 
 Freddy, " and for the sake of the girl whose mother has 
 bullied her into consenting to become the wife of this 
 Yahoo behind me, you'd better hear how the Peri became 
 owner of the cowskin bag. For she had it in her pos- 
 session under the railway arch where she was lying — the 
 habitation of many Djins — and when the penniless young 
 man struck a match upon a stone to light his last cigarette,
 
 THE RESURRECTION OP FREDDY 113 
 
 he saw the bag, with the initials ' B.L.F.,' staring him in 
 the face. . . . ' Boulter Lambourne Fellitoe,' B.L.F. , 
 Boulter Lambourne. . . . He'd seen that bag in his dreams 
 every night for months, and here it was within grab. 
 He'd have given his blood for it — but he didn't rob the 
 Peri. He waited until she'd slept off the Djins, and then 
 he said, ' I know you — you were Sally Ansdell !' And 
 she had a turn of the shakes, and slobbered out between 
 her chattering teeth, ' You're Master Freddy. Lawd ! 
 
 Lawd !' And so I came to know that we were together 
 starving on the stones under that archway, thanks to one 
 man — and he's shaking like another Sally here behind me ! 
 He took her abroad with that five hundred, got tired of 
 her, and sent her about her business with a pound or so, 
 quite in the Boulter style ; and she'd gone down to the 
 depths with other drowned things as shameful as herself, 
 poor soul ! But she'd got the cowskin bag, and she'd 
 got his letters to her : in one of 'em he tells her he'll have 
 five hundred pounds from the pater on a certain day — the 
 day I played catspaw and cashed his forged cheque — and 
 I've got the .voman herself, ready to come forward when 
 
 she's wanted ! As for the cowskin bag " He stooped 
 
 and took the shabby, battered object from beneath the 
 table. " Here it is, you see. Having at this moment no 
 permanent place of abode, I carry my wardrobe, and the 
 letters to which I have referred, in this, the principal 
 piece de conviction. We will adjourn to a private place 
 to examine the letters. And, with Boulter's permission, 
 
 1 suggest Boulter's rooms !" 
 
 " Where you like," said Boulter croakily, without re- 
 moving his gaze from his empty plate, " so long as you 
 don't talk so loud." 
 
 So to Boulter's rooms, a suite of palatial apartments in 
 a Piccadilly mansion, the three men and the cowskin bag 
 
 8
 
 114 THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 
 
 were, by taxi, speedily transferred. You are to imagine 
 the scene when the fateful bag was opened, and Boulter's 
 guilt in Boulter's owrt handwriting made very plain in 
 the eyes of the county baronet and J.P. who within a 
 few days would stand in the lofty relationship of father- 
 in-law to Boulter. And Sir Crowell fairly groaned, his 
 bluff face drawn into lines of despair and consternation, 
 while Freddy, as master of the situation, occupied the 
 hearthrug ; and Boulter sat heavily hunched up in the 
 writing-chair, the personified image of dull, dull guilt. 
 
 "What's to be done?" Sir Crowell wiped his damp 
 forehead and appealed to Freddy. " Give us time, my 
 boy — give us time ! There is another to consider, re- 
 member. You spoke of her just now, and you wronged 
 my wife, by George ! when you talked of Ethel being 
 bullied by her mother into the engagement. She — she 
 loves him — that fellow hulking in the chair. She took 
 your part — she's told me so a hundred times — because he 
 was your brother !" 
 
 " Because he was my — brother?" . . . 
 
 If the Freddy on the hearthrug now was very unlike the 
 Freddy who had been there a moment ago, and much more 
 like the haggard young man who had found the Peri under 
 the railway arch, the " fellow hulking in the chair " had 
 undergone another and even more unpleasant change. For 
 he leaned back and thrust his hands into his pockets, and 
 smiled — and it was not a pretty smile ; nor would it have 
 looked so even on a better type of countenance. 
 
 " She— Ethel,— loves that /" Freddy's white face and 
 blank eyes were turned upon the fortunate possessor of 
 Ethel's affections, and the incredulity and horror in his 
 tone brought a dull flush of colour into Boulter's heavy 
 face. 
 
 For all retort, he plucked a letter out of an inner pocket 
 of his coat, and threw it upon the hearthrug.
 
 THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 115 
 
 " You've seen that writing before, I dare say," said the 
 virtuous young Mussulman of Freddy's story. ' You're 
 mentioned in that letter. And I give you permission to 
 read every word !" 
 
 He leaned back again, his thick hands in his pockets, 
 while Freddy read the letter. His face never changed 
 from its blank expression as he read, but a slow, thin 
 trickle of blood from the underlip he gripped between his 
 teeth told something of the struggle that went on in him. 
 For a moment, the letter finished, he turned his face away ; 
 then he refolded it, replaced it in its envelope, and gave it 
 back to his brother. 
 
 " You're satisfied, I hope ?" Boulter asked, with a faint 
 grin. 
 
 Freddy said he was. Then he turned to Ethel's father : 
 
 " If I let him go free — if I spare him for her sake, will 
 you let her marry him ?" he asked. " He has money now ; 
 he will not need to forge and steal and swindle for the sake 
 of the things that money buys. And you will be near, and, 
 knowing him, you will have a hold upon him. You will 
 be able to guard her. Will you let the marriage take place ? 
 Answer me, please !" 
 
 "You'd better do as conscience and honour and all the 
 rest prompt you !" advised Boulter, lolling back with his 
 thick arms crossed upon his chest. "Don't go against 
 'em to oblige me /" 
 
 " Good Lord !" groaned Sir Crowell, " after what he has 
 done — knowing what he is " 
 
 " Ethel says in the letter I have been privileged to read," 
 said Freddy, " that even if he had been guilty of the crime 
 for which I have been made outcast — she would have 
 married him." 
 
 " Women," said Sir Crowell helplessly, " are damned 
 idiots !" 
 
 Freddy, for reply, lifted the cowskin bag and tilted the
 
 11G THE RESURRECTION OF FREDDY 
 
 letters it contained into the red heart of the open fire. 
 Then he set the bag on top, and crunched it down with his 
 broken boot. He took the limp hat and turned towards 
 the door, as Sir Crowell cried : 
 
 " Freddy, what on earth are you going to do I" 
 " My affair !" said Freddy quietly. Then he felt in his 
 waistcoat pocket and gave a dirty scrap of paper to Sir 
 Crowell. " The Peri's address," he explained. " Have 
 something done for the poor wretch — anonymously ; get 
 her into a home or — somewhere where she can die in cleanli- 
 ness and peace." "" 
 
 " And you — Freddy — for Heaven's sake ! — what " 
 
 Sir Crowell grasped at the sleeve of the threadbare coat, 
 but it tore in his hand, and his only answer was the closing 
 of the outer door.
 
 XI 
 
 LIEGE LADY MINE 
 
 Peter had been foiled in the manoeuvre, ocularly con- 
 certed with a flame of the last three seasons, frisky, married, 
 and of opulent charms ; and found himself, in the order of 
 precedence, " fobbed off with a raw school-girl," as he 
 mentally phrased it, noting the absolute simplicity of her 
 white dinner-gown ; the string of pearls encircling her long, 
 slim throat ; the fine, unfleshy contours of shoulders, bust, 
 and arms, displaying the slight angularities so suggestive 
 of adolescence. She was very tall — would be taller by- 
 and-by, he said to himself — waist a little flat, unrounded 
 by the hateful French corset ; hair yellow as the furze- 
 blossom — no, furze-blossom has a tinge of green, say silk 
 newly reeled from the cocoon — swept up in uncompromising 
 fashion from the back of her white neck and young, pink- 
 tinted, blue- veined temples to crown her with a coil stabbed 
 through with an enamelled bodkin of antique Italian work. 
 Her nose was straight, with a provoking tilt at the tip, her 
 eyelashes brown, and as she kept her eyes determinedly 
 upon her plate it was only possible to conjecture their 
 colour. At this juncture, recalling himself to send a pas- 
 sionate glance in the direction of the flame of three seasons 
 back, and receiving a glare in return. Peter realized that, 
 instead of ignoring his dinner-companion as he had in- 
 tended during the progress of the meal, he had occupied 
 himself with her to the exclusion of the woman who tem- 
 porarily owned him ; and he laughed aloud. 
 
 117
 
 118 LIEGE LADY MINE 
 
 " Did I say anything funny without knowing it ?" asked 
 the woman who sat upon his right. 
 
 " I don't think so !" 
 
 " My dear Peter," she said, casting a pitying glance at 
 him over a round and whitewashed arm, as she helped 
 herself largely, Peter noticed, to the second entree, " you 
 have got it very badly !" and her eye, leaving the dish, 
 travelled meaningly down the opposite side of the table. 
 
 " What ?" asked Peter. 
 
 " It," answered the woman on his right, driving the 
 meaning home with the monosyllable by a disdainful little 
 wag of her chin at the flame of three seasons back. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Mauleverer," said Peter, putting up his 
 eyeglass in his most famous way, " you were always a 
 delightful oracle. Now " — he rather wondered whether he 
 had got the right word — " now you are a charming Sphinx." 
 
 " Like that dear thing in the desert at Gizeh, with its 
 nose knocked off, and a little, little temple in its lap," 
 gushed Mrs. Mauleverer. 
 
 " I don't recall the temple. I remember the dust," said 
 Peter, " the donkeys, and the human scarecrows that 
 howled and whacked them. I remember also some first- 
 class snipe-shooting we got near Luxor, and how the hotel 
 chef ruined them by serving them headless in a brown 
 sweet sauce, without toast." As though overcome with 
 painful memories, Peter dropped his eyeglass. 
 
 "Do men ever think for long of anything unconnected 
 with eating ?" said the Mauleverer, looking disdain out of 
 a pair of large, effective, black-edged eyes. 
 
 " I heard an 'Any on a Bank Holiday declare to the 
 young lady in feathers whose arm was round his waist that 
 it made him fair 'ungry to see her in that 'at," returned 
 Peter. " Wherefore one may take it that, in the case of 
 the soulless male being, the passion of admiration does 
 stimulate the appetite."
 
 LIEGE LADY MINE 119 
 
 " Ah ! Now you are talking nonsense," said the acute 
 Mauleverer, " and I wonder what for ? Mrs. Le Count 
 won't look at you, so perhaps this is the madness of 
 despair?" 
 
 " Mrs. Le Count be " 
 
 Peter bit his moustache in time to arrest Mrs. Maul- 
 everer's acutely arched eyebrows ere they vanished under 
 the valance of her transformation coiffure. 
 
 " Mrs. Le Count bestows her glances where they are 
 better deserved. She has made complete conquest of that 
 astonishing old boy beside her, the antiquated dandy out 
 of Coningsby or Lothair, with the embroidered velvet waist- 
 coat, the frilled cambric shirt, and soft wristbands, high- 
 collared coat, and muslin-swathed stock with the diamond 
 brooch. . . . Who is he, do you know ?" 
 
 Mrs. Mauleverer gave signals of distress. Peter went 
 on in his slow, sweet drawl : 
 
 " He must have been uncommonly handsome in his 
 prime — about the period of the Second Empire, one would 
 say. Whoever makes him up is an artist. That wig, seen 
 upon a block, would suggest the face, style, air, of the man 
 destined to wear it. I quite wish I knew who he is !" 
 
 Mrs. Mauleverer had turned her shoulder. Peter's left- 
 hand companion it was who gave, in a clear, ringing, rather 
 high young voice, the desired information. 
 
 " He is Lord Hesden !" 
 
 Her eyes were slate-blue, large, well-opened, and a little 
 indignant in expression, it occurred to Peter, as they met 
 his own. 
 
 " Hesden ! The eccentric, curio-collecting Earl ! Ah, 
 yes ! I can place him now," murmured Peter, " as the 
 man who paid three thousand for a bogus Egyptian Royal 
 head-dress supposed to have been the tiara of the Queen 
 who built the third Pyramid, or who didn't ! — and pre- 
 sented it to the South Kensington Museum, only to find
 
 120 LIEGE LADY MINE 
 
 that it had been made by a Cairene jeweller who'd settled 
 in Soho. ... I wonder whether he has any heirs, and 
 how they like his expensive little fad ?" 
 
 " Before I let you go on," said the girl, without lowering 
 her voice, and favouring Peter with her full-face view, " I 
 ought to tell you that he — I mean Lord Hesden — is my 
 father !" 
 
 " Good lor ! — I hope you will forgive me !" said Peter 
 blankly. " Why, in the face of the awful possibilities of 
 the dinner-table, people go on asking their neighbours who 
 other people are ? is one of the life-problems which will 
 never be explained to us. If I have said anything offen- 
 sive, please forget it ! It won't be the least use my promis- 
 ing never to do it again ; I'm sure to !" 
 
 And Peter looked so penitently at his young neighbour 
 that she laughed aloud and merrily. 
 
 " I will not only forgive you," she said, " but answer the 
 other question you asked just now, about father's heirs. 
 There are only three of us, Grandville and Dorothy and me 
 — I am Felicity — and we don't mind his collecting-fad a bit 
 when the things he collects are clean. Some of them 
 aren't. I don't mean mummies — they're only dusty ; but 
 African fetish-wigs and things for ju-ju. . . . Grrh !" 
 Lady Felicity lifted her white, rather thin shoulders to her 
 ears, without the slightest anticipation of Peter's eyeglass. 
 
 " May I give you some more grapes, Lady Felicity ?" 
 said Peter, with deep respect. 
 
 " Stodged, thanks !" was the unaffected response. Then 
 Lady Felicity blushed, a healthy sweep of colour covering 
 not only her delicately curved cheeks, but her charming 
 temples, swamping the roots of her fine floss-silk hair, and 
 spreading downwards to her neck-string of pearls. " I 
 oughtn't to have said that, I suppose. But Grandville 
 does it, and I was always his favourite sister. He's such a 
 dear, you can't think ! and we get on like smoke, only we
 
 LIEGE LADY MINE 121 
 
 quarrel sometimes over heroes in books. He calls the 
 Knight of the Swan a muff, and Prosper Le Gai a conceited 
 ass ; and I consider Kim a Eurasian imp, and abominate 
 Captain Kettle." She stopped for breath. " But the 
 worst row we had," she went on, tossing her head as if 
 
 throwing back a mane of hair, " was over " She 
 
 stopped, the very tips of her pretty ears dyed crimson. 
 " How silly ! I won't say !" 
 
 " Do say !" urged Peter, entreaty shining through his 
 eyeglass. 
 
 ' The Duchess is going to give the signal. I shall have 
 to go away with the other women," said Lady Felicity. 
 
 11 The Duchess smokes three cigarettes with her curacao, 
 and likes coffee at the table. . . . We're all right for 
 now !" said Peter cheeringly. " You were going to tell me 
 why you rowed with Lord Grandville ?" 
 
 " Oh ! he found out about Sir Agolane de Vergy !" 
 
 "About Sir Agolane de Vergy?" Peter echoed, with 
 circular eyes. 
 
 Lady Felicity bit her lip and frowned, turning pale 
 instead of rosy this time. 
 
 " There ! I said I wouldn't tell you !" she cried, the tears 
 of vexation rising in her slate-blue eyes. 
 
 " I belong to that class of men," said Peter insinuatingly, 
 1 to whom women instinctively turn when they need some- 
 one to confide in." 
 
 " He was that kind of man !" said Lady Felicity, drawing 
 a deep breath. 
 
 "Sir Ago— h'm?" 
 
 " Sir Agolane." Lady Felicity spoke with an averted 
 face, and played nervously with some grape-stalks. " The 
 secret of a lady, reposed in him, was as if enclosed in 
 an iron coffer, locked and hidden at the bottom of the 
 
 sea." 
 
 Close kind of man, what ?" commented Peter.
 
 122 LIEGE LADY MINE 
 
 " Close isn't the word to use in describing him," retorted 
 Lady Felicity. " His generosity in everything was a 
 proverb. When he had money he gave with both hands 
 to everyone who asked for it. . . ." 
 
 " Wish I'd known the buffer !" murmured Peter. 
 
 " He was perfectly splendid in every way," retorted Lady 
 Felicity, turning a lovely glowing face and a pair of shining 
 eyes full on the dazzled Peter. " He was the very flower 
 of chivalry, the heart of valiance. He had no aspirations 
 save for high desert and honour, and those he sought that 
 he might gain thereby his lady's smiles." 
 
 " And she ?" Peter's eyeglass was inquisitive. 
 
 " Dorothy and I used to be she — her, I mean — by turns. 
 She judged the prize at the tournament, assisted him to 
 arm, and was the first and the most joyous," said Lady 
 Felicity, with drooping lashes, " to hail his safe return from 
 the perils of war !" 
 
 " War ?" hazarded Peter. 
 
 " He fought the battles of his country and his Church, 
 and he did great deeds when he visited the Courts of 
 Europe, and challenged and overcame the principal repre- 
 sentatives of foreign chivalry one after another," went on 
 Lady Felicity in a voice that was a little high-flown and 
 artificial, as a child's repeating a lesson by rote. " And he 
 achieved wonders in the Crusades," she added. 
 
 " I gather," remarked the enlightened Peter, twisting 
 his moustache rather carefully. " that the gentleman is 
 dead ?" 
 
 " Nothing of the kind !" flashed Lady Felicity. " Ho 
 never lived — except for me and Dorothy." 
 
 " Ah ! . . . 3'ou must have found him a great resource," 
 observed Peter politely, though his eyeglass was glazed with 
 bewilderment. 
 
 " We were driven to invent him and pretend he is alive," 
 said Lady Felicity, turning her bright eyes and her charm
 
 LIEGE LADY MINE 123 
 
 ing eager face on Peter, " when we found out how simply 
 awful the young men of the present day are — I mean, by 
 contrast with those that lived once — even as short a time 
 back as Esmond." 
 
 " You mean the very young men, I hope ? " pleaded 
 Peter. 
 
 " They have no chins, or too much," said Lady Felicity, 
 with a little grimace of disgust ; " and no teeth, or too 
 many ; and they don't talk at all, or they babble, without 
 ever stopping, about nothing. They never read, they 
 don't care for Poetry or for Art " — both these words began 
 with a capital letter when pronounced by Lady Felicity — 
 " and if you told them that Beethoven composed ' Take 
 Me In A Taxi—' or that Chopin wrote musical comedies, 
 they'd regularly swallow it for Gospel. They like married 
 women better than girls. ..." 
 
 " Idiots !" said Peter, quite savagely, glancing down the 
 table on the opposite side. 
 
 " And they like people who dance and sing at music- 
 halls even better than the married women," went on Lady 
 Felicity. " Look ! the Duchess is collecting eyes." 
 
 " The men don't stay behind with the decanters, even 
 for a thirsty minute, in this house," said Peter joyfully ; 
 " so mayn't I hear some more about Sir Thingolane in the 
 drawing-room ?" Without waiting for permission, he fol- 
 lowed close upon the slim figure in the simple white gown, 
 and the flame of the three last seasons launched, from the 
 comfortable double settee she had thoughtfully secured, 
 the slings and arrows of her too opulent charms at the 
 gleaming target of Peter's eyeglass in vain. 
 
 " Who is that girl talking to Captain Powerslane V she 
 asked snappishly of a male hoverer who would have liked 
 a share of the double settee. 
 
 " Captain Powerslane 1 . . . Is that the R.H.A. man 
 who blew up an ammunition-convoy seized by Boers, or
 
 124 LIEGE LADY MINE 
 
 something, in 1902, and got the D.S.O. ? Plain beggar, if 
 plucky," said the hoverer. "The girl is — let me see — 
 Lady Felicity Marr-Vining, old Lord Hesden's youngest 
 girl." 
 
 " He didn't claim her at dinner," and Peter's flame of 
 three seasons back put up her glass. " Pretty, but gawky," 
 she commented, and sweeping her frills from the other half 
 of the settee went in for making Peter simply wild. If 
 
 Peter had seen ! But Peter was hugging his knee, 
 
 and bringing his eyeglass to bear upon the question : 
 
 " What made you think of Sir Agolane de Thingumy ?" 
 
 " I've told you ! . . . As for his name and character, 
 some came out of the History of CMvalry and some out of 
 the Treasury of Romance,'" said Lady Felicity. " And 
 Dolly and I took it in turns to be his liege lady fair. Who- 
 ever was out of the chief part for the time being used to be 
 the pilgrim with cockles and news from the Holy Land, or 
 the faithful page who brought letters in his shoes. Of 
 course, we wrote the letters ourselves." 
 
 " You never — either of you — saw much of Sir Agolane, 
 then ?" asked Peter. 
 
 " How stupid you are ! . . . We never see him. . . . 
 We are always going to ; but something happens, and he 
 sends a herald or a pilgrim or a page instead." 
 
 " You — she — both of you must find things dull without 
 him," said Peter musingly. " Because a man of that kind 
 must be missed, you know." 
 
 " We tried embroidering his deeds with crewels on hop- 
 sacking, but it took too long ; and we collected simples and 
 made balm for his wounds in the schoolroom saucepan, and 
 we gave alms of barley-cakes and cold water in his name 
 to wayfarers at the wicket of the lower postern, saying, 
 ' Pray for the valiant Knight, Sir Agolane de Vergy.' " 
 
 " How did the wayfarers take that !" 
 
 " They didn't take it, if you mean the alms of barley-
 
 LIEGE LADY MINE 125 
 
 cakes and the water, until we thought of promising them 
 pennies afterwards, and then," said Lady Felicity, " they 
 asked to see the money first — tramps are awfully un- 
 believing." 
 
 ' You mentioned the postern-gate just now," said Peter, 
 screwing his glass in tightly. " Might one be permitted to 
 ask in what division of Great Britain the castle belonging 
 to the postern is to be found ?" •• 
 
 " In West Wales," said Lady Felicity. " You've heard 
 of Caer Ninian, haven't you ? Father added it to his col- 
 lection of curiosities five years ago, and we really live more 
 there than anywhere now." 
 
 " Condescend to mention a day," said Peter, in his 
 silkiest drawl, " when the usual dole will be distributed by 
 the Lady Felicity to the wayworn wanderer and the passing 
 pilgrim at the gate of Ninian Castle ? " 
 
 " Oh, we've nearly given up all that childish nonsense," 
 said Lady Felicity proudly. " But we're going to be there 
 all through May," she added immediately. " That duffing 
 Egyptian tiara of father's has got to be made up for some- 
 how. And we're going now. ... I can see him feeling 
 in his coat-tail pocket for his velvet cap." 
 
 She rose, slim as a young birch-tree and upright as a 
 lance, and gave her cool, bare hand to Peter, looking him 
 frankly in the eyes. And when Lord Hesden had fussed 
 himself and his daughter into the hired brougham, and 
 told the coachman to drive home to their Clarges Street 
 lodgings, Felicity said to herself, leaning back against the 
 unspringy cushions and staring out into the bare midnight 
 streets, blue and chilly-looking in the spaces illuminated by 
 the electric light : 
 
 " Dolly would have shuddered at the idea of giving Sir 
 Agolane a carroty moustache and a brick-red, sunburnt 
 face. So would I, I suppose — once !" 
 
 " Get away to bed with you," rasped the parental voice,
 
 126 LIEGE LADY MINE 
 
 as the brougham stopped. " You'll be as yellow as a 
 guinea in the morning." 
 
 So Felicity went dutifully upstairs, and slept excellently, 
 and did not fulfil the prediction about the guinea. It was 
 the owner of the red moustache who had an inferior night. 
 
 " What fools we sons of men are ! what fools !" Peter 
 kept saying over and over, as he thumped his unreposeful 
 pillow and tugged angrily at the rumpled sheets. " All of 
 us, without exception, fools and brutes and slaves. We 
 barter away the best years of our lives for a kiss, and from 
 what lips ! We learn when we have borne the yoke and 
 smarted under the lash — Heaven knows how long ! that we 
 might have been free instead of bond, happy instead of 
 confoundedly wretched, rich instead of bankrupt in every- 
 thing that goes to make existence worth having, if we'd 
 only chosen. The bandage is taken from our eyes, and we 
 see the mud walls of the prison we thought a palace ; and 
 the wild oats we've sown and reaped, — ground into flour, 
 kneaded into bread and eaten like the rest, — we sicken at 
 the taste of ! I've a month's mind to knock at the wicket 
 of the lower postern, and ask for a share of barley-cake and 
 a drink of water, if I thought she'd " 
 
 A man rarely troubles himself to deplore the past unless 
 he has good reason to fear its having a prejudicial effect 
 upon the future. Peter, with some ingratitude, now re- 
 garded Mrs. Le Count as belonging exclusively to the past. 
 With his breakfast he received a brief missive, written in 
 violet ink on heliotrope paper with a green monogram. 
 The handwriting was familiar, the sentiments expressed 
 not new. The writer informed Peter that a gulf had 
 opened between them, and that unless he came to lunch at 
 two sharp, nothing would ever bridge it over. Peter tore 
 the letter into little bits, and put them in the slop-basin 
 and poured hot milk over them, in which dissolving 

 
 K 
 
 (1 
 
 LIEGE LADY MINE 127 
 
 element the words vanished and the paper became a slight 
 mourning pulp. 
 
 Bother the woman !" he said — and, perhaps, not only- 
 bother." Then he glanced at the date above the columns 
 of his newspaper. It was April 27, and the liege lady of 
 Sir Agolane would be back at Caer Ninian early in May. 
 " For the whole of May," she had told him. Meanwhile, 
 there was not much chance of meeting her, but — but Peter, 
 dressed with the most scrupulous care, did a great deal of 
 calling upon people he knew, who were likely to know 
 Lady Felicity. And he rode in the Park a surprised cob, 
 who could not understand why an acquaintance of three 
 seasons with Mrs. Le Count's tall, raking chestnut must be 
 suddenly broken off. Also, Peter walked in frequented 
 places at fashionable hours ; in fact, beat every imaginable 
 kind of society covert without a single draw. Then, upon 
 May 1, as a popular writer says, " a strange thing hap- 
 pened." A postcard of the pictorial kind, directed to Peter 
 at Peter's club, in a laboriously square and upright girlish 
 hand, sent a throb of bliss unutterable tingling to the very 
 core of Peter's heart. His eyeglass dropped, his hand 
 trembled. The postcard, when he mustered composure to 
 examine it, bore the Ninian postmark. All of the other 
 side, save a brief epistolary margin, was occupied by a 
 somewhat smudgy photograph of Ninian Castle, a rather 
 imposing but rickety-looking Norman keep, enclosed within 
 a massive curtain-wall, flanked by a ditch, and guarded by 
 battlemented towers of the usual muff -box shape. 
 
 " An unhealthy old bat-haunt !" Peter termed the ancient 
 pile, thinking of a lovely old Tudor hall in Deershire that 
 owned no chatelaine. (Did I mention that Peter was 
 " somebody," and had inherited, with an ancient name, a 
 not inconsiderable share of this world's dross ?) And then, 
 examining the photograph of the castle with the aid of his 
 searching eyeglass, he discovered a blotty cross in ink
 
 128 LIEGE LADY MINE 
 
 marked upon the wall at the base of the right-hand gate- 
 tower. Truly, there was the arch of a small postern, nearly 
 smothered in the ivy that mantled the place. Peter 
 pocketed the card, having foolishly kissed the blotty cross, 
 and got his Bradshaw, only to learn that until ten o'clock 
 that night no train would leave Paddington for Ninian. It 
 was a blow, but Peter was a man of action. He telegraphed 
 to the station-master that he wanted a special express for 
 West Wales, hurled himself into a hansom, and followed 
 on the heels of his wire. 
 
 " Five shillings a mile, plus the ordinary fare, paid in 
 advance," said the station-master. " It figures up to about 
 seventy pounds." Peter put down the money, and the 
 arrangements were clicked out there and then. Something 
 in the wild, wistful gleam of Peter's eyeglass must have 
 gone to the heart of the official, for when he had said, 
 " Platform number a hundred-and-one ; she'll be ready in 
 ten minutes," he added, reaching out his hand and grasp- 
 ing Peter's, " I trust, sir, I sincerely trust, you will find 
 your good lady as well as can be expected !" and turned 
 away to hide a sympathetic tear. 
 
 Peter's usually brick-red complexion had scarcely lost 
 the damson hue evoked by this aspiration, when, in solitary 
 grandeur, he steamed out of Paddington and thundered 
 away for Wales. It was barely half -past eleven ; the special 
 was due to reach the bourne of his desires about eight — with 
 luck, a few minutes before. Realizing, in a brief, lucid 
 moment, that the journey had been undertaken without 
 even such necessary equipments as a railway-rug, a tooth- 
 brush, a clean collar, or as much provision as a hard-boiled 
 egg, Peter began to wonder whether he had proved himself 
 to belong to an entirely new species of ass, or whether he 
 was merely one of the ordinary kind ? But he did not 
 wonder long. He reverted to his thoughts about Lady 
 Felicity, whose ears ought to have been burning. Perhaps
 
 LIEGE LADY MINE 129 
 
 they were, for she knew in sending that postcard to Peter's 
 club she had committed a forward and unmaidenly action. 
 She threw sops to her conscience by saying to herself, over 
 and over again, that he would never dream from whom 
 the postcard came. She had hunted him up in Who's 
 What ? and that enlightening annual had supplied her with 
 facts relative to the blowing up of the cartridge-convoy, 
 when the carts with their escorts were held up by Boers 
 between Madjesfontein and Greensluyt in 1902, and Peter's 
 resultant D.S.O. 
 
 " Sir Agolane could hardly have beaten that !" she said 
 to that gentleman's other inventor and proprietress. 
 
 ' You forget," retorted Lady Dorothy, " that in that 
 single-handed combat with the Danes, though his left cheek 
 and half his chin were sliced off by Grimwulf 's three-handed 
 sword Backbiter, he continued to do battle and slay, though 
 the hall in which they fought was burning." 
 
 ' He only left off when the roof tumbled in, Dolly," said 
 Lady Felicity, with a sudden blaze of colour in her fair 
 cheeks. " I think we ought to let it bury him, and give — 
 give a chance to somebody alive !" 
 
 ' The man who wins my hand," said Lady Dolly sternly, 
 ' must be something more than merely alive. Blowing up 
 a convoy isn't everything. He must risk peril, endure toil, 
 and support hardships for me, and think himself richly 
 rewarded if I permit him to kiss the tip of my finger. Do 
 we distribute alms, as usual, at the postern to-day ? 
 The jackdaws and starlings will be disappointed if we 
 don't." 
 
 Lady Felicity assented with a sigh, and Lady Dolly, 
 taking a basket furnished with cold toast and oatcake, led 
 the way. 
 
 The most habitable dwelling-rooms at Ninian were on 
 the western side of the inner courtyard, the long hall and 
 the many-windowed drawing-room above it commanding a 
 
 9
 
 ISO LIEGE LADY MINE 
 
 vast expanse of sea-poppied sand-dunes, fringed by the 
 white breakers of Bridget's Bay. The eastern side of 
 Ninian harboured only legends, jackdaws, and bats ; and 
 the staircase leading from the gatehouse-archway to the 
 lower postern had never seemed more damp and unpleasant 
 than on the morning of this second of May. 
 
 " We've forgotten the water !" said Lady Dolly, with a 
 shiver. " I'll run back and fetch the bottle and glass." 
 
 " You're always forgetting the water," said Lady 
 Felicity, rather crossly. But Lady Dolly was already halfway 
 across the courtyard. So Lady Felicity, tucking her morn- 
 ing frock, a well-worn blue serge garment, carefully above 
 her slim silk-stockinged ankles, descended the slimy stone 
 steps, and, feeling through the darkness for the heavy bolt 
 of the postern, drew it back, rattling in its worn grooves 
 and pulled open the door. With the door came the head 
 and shoulders of a man who had been dozing with his back 
 against it. 
 
 " A tramp," thought Lady Felicity, " and I'm all alone ! 
 . . . And there's nothing but cold toast and oatcake !" she 
 added mentally. 
 
 But the man had picked himself up, and rescued his hat 
 — a battered grey bowler, with what an American would 
 have termed " a chunk " out of the brim ; and, as he stood 
 before her, battered, ragged, gritty, and dusty, as though 
 he had rolled in a cinder-bunker first and a sandpit after- 
 wards, she knew Peter. His eyeglass had not deserted 
 him, and his moustache and complexion were redder than 
 Lady Felicity had deemed. 
 
 " Oh !" she said, " it is " 
 
 " Gentle Lady," said Peter, " you see before you Sir 
 Agolane de Vergy, a knight fresh from the wars. Dare I 
 hope that for the sake of your vow of charity to pilgrims 
 and wanderers you will extend to me a portion of your 
 alms V He hungrily eyed the basket. " I left Paddington
 
 LIEGE LADY MINE 131 
 
 yesterday at eleven-thirty, and many strange adventures 
 have happened since." 
 
 " But there's no train after ten," said Lady Felicity. 
 " You must have come by the night mail ? . . . No, you 
 didn't, for it's only steaming into the station now," she 
 added, as a distant locomotive-shriek came from the lower 
 level of the railway-line. " How did you get here ?" 
 
 " I chartered a special," said Peter, " when your post- 
 card came. We got along first-class until we branched off 
 at Mervyl-Tidthur, and then we ran into the tail-end of a 
 cow-excursion train." He glanced at the ragged elbow of 
 his left arm, which was bandaged, and supported in an 
 improvised sling made out of a blue window-strap of 
 Government make. 
 
 " Oh, you're hurt !" cried Lady Felicity, her blue eyes 
 darkening with pity. Peter dusty, Peter ragged, Peter 
 wounded, and wounded for her, appealed to her passion 
 for the romantic and chivalresque. 
 
 " I've only dislocated my wrist, and got a cut or two," 
 said Peter. " The driver and stoker came off with a shaking. 
 It was the guard who got beans — I mean, sustained serious 
 injuries. I had to stay to look after him a bit, poor 
 chap ! Then," he added, " I hired a light engine and 
 came on. I had some trouble in finding your doorstep, 
 and, once I landed on it, I stopped." 
 
 " All night," gasped Lady Felicity, " in the dark and 
 the cold !" 
 
 ' It was night," said Peter, " and certainly cold, but I 
 think I found it rather agreeable than otherwise." His 
 eyeglass could not hide the look that accompanied the 
 words. And, strangely enough, at that psychological 
 moment he was conscious of a happiness never previously 
 tasted, while Felicity was flooded with a wonderful sense 
 of having met his look and heard his words before. 
 
 1 You must come in and be looked after, and have some
 
 132 LIEGE LADY MINE 
 
 breakfast." There was a little tremble in her voice, and 
 her blue eyes were shining like stars seen by day. 
 
 " It may seem odd. ... I haven't had the pleasure of 
 being introduced to Lord Hesden ! — " Peter began. 
 
 She cut him short. " Would Sir Agolane have bothered 
 whether he had been introduced or not ?" 
 
 " I don't suppose he would," said Peter. " I'm a bad 
 hand at inventing," he went on very earnestly. " Do you 
 mind telling me what Sir Agolane would really have said 
 to his liege Lady Felicity if he had happened along in 
 cockles as a pilgrim after sixty years or so spent in fighting 
 the Paynim . . . and found her waiting at the postern 
 gate ? . . . I haven't fought anything but Pathans and 
 Burmese and Boers, I want you to understand plainly . . . 
 and instead of doing deeds for the honour of my liege lady, 
 I have done things that brought dishonour to myself ! 
 There never was such a one-horse knight !" said Peter, 
 paling under his sun-tan, " but I've never been a craven, or 
 a cur, or a cad, and — and " 
 
 " You blew up those ammunition-carts," whispered Lady 
 
 Felicity. " And you Oh, please come in and let 
 
 us do something for that poor, poor wrist of yours !" 
 
 Peter held back. It was so sweet to watch her lovely 
 lips as she pleaded with him for himself. 
 
 " Tell me, you don't think me an intrusive idiot for 
 coming and camping on your doorstep like this ?" he 
 insisted. 
 
 "I don't! I — I wanted you- to do it!" said Lady 
 Felicity, looking at him bravely. " Now, will you 
 come in V 
 
 " Not without an appropriate speech," affirmed Peter. 
 " I must play the game, you know. What would Sir 
 Agolane have said in my place ? Remember what I have 
 owned to you, please !" 
 
 " lie might say : ' / have fared to many lands, and borne
 
 LIEGE LADY MINE 133 
 
 the brunt of many conflicts, and sometimes conquered and at 
 other times been worsted. And I have set my feet in strange 
 paths and my heart upon false idols, and turned from Purity 
 to Impurity, and made Evil my Good. But in my heart I 
 knew that Truth was the only beauty, and Honour the only 
 prize, and Purity the pearl beyond all jewels.'' I didn't 
 invent this ; it's out of ' Sir Balyn the Brave ' : ' Wherefore I 
 have returned to thee ' — not that you have, you know ! 
 ' Love, dost tlwu bid me leave thee, or never depart from thee 
 more T " 
 
 "And his liege Lady, — Felicit}'! — what did she say?" 
 whispered Peter. 
 
 " She said — in ' Sir Balyn ' — ' Do not leave me, my be- 
 loved ! Never depart from me more !' " 
 
 ' I — I wish you would say that !" begged Peter, looking 
 at Felicity with wistful eyes set in caves that had been 
 suddenly dug round them. " I wish to Heaven that ycu 
 would say that ! I don't deserve it ; but it would be — 
 good to hear !" 
 
 " Here is Dolly — she'll be awfully surprised," said Lady 
 Felicity, in a fluttered voice, as light footsteps sounded on 
 the postern stair. Then she leant a little nearer to Peter 
 and stretched a pitying hand towards his invalid arm; 
 " If you'll come in, and let us give you some breakfast, 
 and " — she laughed nervously — " bind up your wound?, 
 I'll— I'll say it." 
 
 Peter was inexorable. " Say — what ?" 
 
 Felicity said it, her fringed eyelids drooping on her 
 crimson cheeks, her whole young body one blissful quiver, 
 her lips moving as measuredly as those of a good school- 
 child repeating a lesson : " Do not leave me, my — my 
 beloved ! Never depart from me more !" 
 
 And Peter went in to breakfast.
 
 xn 
 
 TOTO THE TEMPTER 
 
 As a middle-aged bachelor, who was at Harrow with 
 the culprit, it was my fate to aid for the — well, not for the 
 first time — in tinkering up a reconciliation between Cour- 
 boys, Gentleman — of no occupation, since his enforced 
 retirement from the Diplomatic Service in 1907 — and his 
 wife ; Courboys having once more kicked over the marital 
 traces, and k the vehicle attached to the pair, a joint estab- 
 lishment in Mayfair — originally lined with the domestic 
 affections and varnished with the proprieties and virtues — 
 having sustained damage at the flying heels of the most 
 mercurial of husbands. For Mrs. Courboys was altogether 
 beyond reproach — a duodecimo Lucretia, the glance of 
 whose large violet-grey eyes had power to freeze the most 
 enterprising of men, had he dared to button her glove 
 too ardently or open her sunshade with more empressment 
 than discretion warranted. Yet this charming ice-statue 
 was never destitute of adorers, doomed to a pursuit as 
 unending and as hopeless as the satyr's chase of the nymph 
 upon the proverbial Grecian vase. 
 
 To Courboys, however, she was passionately devoted, 
 and such strange creatures are men that I have often 
 wondered whether the refrigerating business might not, 
 
 in his case, have But it would never have done to 
 
 suggest that. Mrs. Courboys would have opened her large 
 violet-grey eyes in shocked incredulity, and referred me 
 to Scripture authorities on the duties of wives towards 
 husbands. She had been admirably brought up — indeed, 
 
 134
 
 TOTO THE TEMPTER 135 
 
 was the daughter of an Anglican clean, whose exalted 
 connections, wealthy patrons, and handsome income made 
 it possible for him to prefer Gregorian chants, wear em- 
 broidered copes, burn candles and incense, and intone the 
 Church of England service, without danger of being dropped 
 upon by a Bishop of Broad-Church views and plebeian 
 ancestry. The Dean did not interfere in the quarrels 
 between his daughter and her husband. His was the 
 policy of peace at any price, and he had travelled too far 
 upon the ancient road to believe in divorce — now per- 
 sistently demanded. According to a letter scrawled on 
 mauve paper, which lay at this psychological moment 
 crumpled up in a corner of Mrs. Courboys' drawing-room 
 fender, the Dean was at that moment engaged in suppli- 
 cating pardon from above for an injured but erring daughter. 
 
 " Prayin' ! oh, yes ; I know all about that kind of 
 prayin' !" scoffed Courboys, picking up the crumpled 
 ball of paper and smoothing it out, with a curiosity I 
 would have rebuked as lack of breeding had the rebuke 
 been likely to be of effect. " Seen him at it ! He wants 
 to be out of the racket, that's all. And he is ! Sittin' 
 snoring in the armchair in his study with a Times over his 
 head ! I could do some of that kind of prayin' for a 
 hatful of monkey-nuts !" 
 
 And as Courboys finished this declaration of scepticism 
 with regard to the merits of a father-in-law worshipped by 
 the entire feminine population of a Midland manufacturing 
 city as a saint, the saint's daughter swept into the little 
 dainty drawing-room bright with Indian wall-paper, 
 dadoed with peacocks'-tails — considered by some super- 
 stitious persons as inimical to the welfare of a home — 
 Morris chintz, green bronze electroliers, blue Japanese 
 pottery, and Wardour Street Chippendale ; and, pinning me 
 with her eye as a witness, asked quietly for a separation. 
 Had she gulped and blinked after the fashion of hysterical
 
 136 TOTO THE TEMPTER 
 
 women, had she chewed her handkerchief to pulp or rent 
 it into ribbons, had she roundly denounced Courboys as 
 a scamp and a reprobate, one could have prophesied a 
 renewal of kindness at no distant date. But her tone was 
 so calm, her attitude so determined, that the little rift 
 within the lute gaped wide as the spacious Gothic doorway 
 of the Law Courts in the Strand ; and one saw Courboys, 
 his domestic cable cut, spinning down the river of ruin, 
 in company with — how many brazen vessels ? 
 
 " By Jingo !" ejaculated Courboys. " It seems as if 
 you'd made up your mind !" 
 
 Mrs. Courboys gave her whilom tyrant a quiet glance. 
 She seemed in this moment of complete and justifiable 
 revolution, prettier than I had ever seen her. She had 
 on a beautifully cut gown, cream cloth trimmed with sable, 
 and violets clustered in a dainty little toque that crowned 
 her wheat-coloured waves of hair. Her eyes were living 
 sapphires gleaming from under levelled brows, her prettily 
 moulded chin was firmly set in her black satin cravat. I 
 despised Courboys, but when Courboys tried to temporize 
 — I comprehended. 
 
 " Allie !" he said, after a blank contemplation of the 
 bachelor future in view — " Allie !" — her name was Alice — 
 " can't we make terms ? I may be a frisky husband, but 
 upon my solemn, I'm a faithful one ! and if you're willin' 
 to overlook things, I'll undertake you won't regret " 
 
 " I have overlooked things," said Mrs. Courboys, " and 
 I have invariably regretted having done so. Now I furnish 
 myself with material for self-congratulation, my dear 
 Ernest, in separating my life from yours. Build with the 
 birds of night, drink from the streams of dissipation, 
 henceforth, as you will. You will have no wife to be a 
 clog upon your pleasures. ... I shall possess no husband 
 to be my children's evil example — though he exists as 
 their lasting disgrace !"
 
 TOTO THE TEMPTER 137 
 
 The look that accompanied the closing sentence was 
 annihilating. It literally swept the insect Courboys, from 
 the earth on which he crawled, over the verge of nothing- 
 ness. He began — nay, he had already begun — to cave in, 
 and sued for pardon at any price. 
 
 " I'll cut bridge and baccarat and bettin' and — and — 
 disreputable pals. I swear I will ! I'll never call on 
 Mrs. Brill-Williams — hang the woman ! — again. I'll drop 
 Lady Turnabout " — Lady Turnabout was a sprightly 
 peeress who, having been freed by a decree nisi from the 
 conventionalities of good society, had " come out " at 
 what are known as " the Halls," nightly kicking the hat 
 of notoriety from the brows of profcssionality with the toe 
 of emancipation — " I'll give 'em both the chuck, upon my 
 soul I will ! Will that do, or won't it ?" he shrieked. 
 
 When the man is reduced to shrieking, while the woman 
 maintains her ordinary vocal level, victory, upon her side, 
 is a sure and certain thing. She may push her advantage 
 to the utmost, and demand the head upon a charger. 
 Mrs. Courboys reflected for the shadow of an instant, then 
 said : 
 
 " And will you give up Toto ?" 
 
 Courboys was driven, by this apparently trivial request, 
 to frenzy. 
 
 ' By Jingo, Jack," he yelled — let me explain that my 
 friends usually call me Jack — " by Jingo ! she wants me 
 to part with the parrot." 
 
 ' You avowed your willingness to have done with all 
 your disreputable companions," said his wife, with icy scorn. 
 
 At this I rashly interfered. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Courboys," I began, fixing my eyeglass 
 firmly, and bringing the most soothing inflections of my 
 voice to the aid of the expostulation, " is not tins a little — 
 a little unreasonable ? Ernest has had that bird for years. 
 It was given to him by Lord Alfred Waster, his chief, upon
 
 138 TOTO THE TEMPTER 
 
 his dying bed, at Monte Carlo. Comfortably packed in 
 bis special travelling cage, Toto had accompanied his late 
 master wherever duty called : Paris, St. Petersburg, Vienna, 
 Madrid, New York, San Francisco, Barbadoes, Hawaii, 
 Japan " 
 
 " And I swore I'd never part with him, and I'm dashed 
 if I do !" asserted Courboys. 
 
 His wife retorted : 
 
 " You have announced, finally, your intention to re- 
 form, as the result of my equally final determination to 
 separate from you. While you keep that bird, you will never 
 be anything but what you are now. Kill it, get rid of it 
 in what way you choose, so that I may no longer hear its 
 loathsome voice — feel its hateful presence near me. You 
 have my last word upon the subject. Either you part 
 with Toto as well as your other degrading and degraded 
 associates — or I part with you !" 
 
 And the white cloth and sable costume, containing a 
 woman who had made up her mind, swept from the draw- 
 ing-room. 
 
 Courboys dropped heavily into an armchair, driving it 
 back against the peacock dado with a crash, and exclaimed : 
 
 " By George, she's put her foot down ! And Toto's got 
 to go !" 
 
 She had put her foot down, it was plain to the most 
 casual observer. Had I been in the shoes she graced, I 
 should have preferred keeping Toto to keeping Courboys, 
 for the bird, a large grey, red-crested parrot, with which 
 I possessed a superficial acquaintance, was really a hand- 
 some and creditable specimen of its kind. But women, 
 even the most enlightened, will be women at times, and 
 clearly Toto must be sacrificed upon the altar dedicated to 
 Courboys' domestic gods. 
 
 " Come into the study and have a look at him," his 
 depressed proprietor requested, and I went.
 
 TOTO THE TEMPTER 139 
 
 The apartment, panelled and furnished with fumed oak, 
 upholstered in morocco leather, boasted a complete set 
 of foils and single-sticks, some sporting double-barrels and 
 angling-rods, the Turf Magazine from 1850, Ruff's Guide, 
 The Racing Calendar, Youatt on the Horse, The Stud Book, 
 Hoyle, Briggs on Bridge, and a collection of nude statuettes 
 in bronze paste. There were a good many of the more 
 daring republications of Pickleson, luxuriously bound ; a 
 lot of French novels, old and new, brightly yellow outside 
 and deeply, darkly, beautifully blue within ; and a good 
 many water-colours of the modern Gallic school. Altogether, 
 the room was a simple, candid admission of the tastes and 
 habits of its owner. In a huge gilded cage upon a window- 
 table the big grey parrot sat muttering to himself over a 
 partly-eaten Brazil nut he clutched in one scaly claw. He 
 dropped the nut as his master drew near, flapped his broad 
 wings and sidled to the bars, the onyx pupils of his topaz 
 eyes contracting and dilating with welcome, his fluffed-up 
 neck, erected crimson crest, and jet-black beak inclined for 
 the expected caress. 
 
 Courboys scratched him regretfully. 
 
 " It's all up, Toto. . . . You've got the chuck, my poor 
 old chappie," he said with unaffected regret. 
 
 Really Toto seemed to understand, for in a raucous 
 screech of mingled anger and disgust he jerked out : 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! The missus — the missus ! Oh, lor' ! 
 Drat all women. S's's' ! . . . cats ! Drat 'em ! S's's' ! 
 cats ! Oh, lor' !" He ended with a peal of ribald laughter, 
 and a remark in Spanish which, despite my slight and 
 superficial acquaintance with that language, I recognized 
 as glaringly unfit for publication. Then, as the bird danced 
 upon his perch, whistling and flapping his great wings 
 in defiance, as it seemed, of the edict of banishment, and 
 contempt of the weakness of his master, Courboys turned 
 to me.
 
 140 TOTO THE TEMPTER 
 
 " Jack, old man, be a Samaritan — and give the bird a 
 home ! It's no use fightin' against Fate. Allie has had 
 her knife into him for years ; now it's a choice between 
 Toto and her. And " 
 
 " You beggar — you poor beggar !" said Toto, in a low, 
 grating voice, as Courboys' gesture indicated which he had 
 chosen. 
 
 Then the bird bleated like a lamb, an insult which went 
 home, for Courboys, with a movement of anger, threw over 
 the cage a large, green cloth cover, and reduced its resentful 
 occupant to silence. 
 
 I was shaking with repressed emotion, but I composed 
 my features and met Courboys' glance of entreaty with 
 an expression at once sympathetic and grave. I had no 
 objection, I informed him, to afford Toto a temporary 
 refuge at my Dover Street flat until a permanent asylum 
 could be arranged. My housekeeper was an excellent 
 woman, fond of animals and birds, and if matters could 
 be managed between Toto and her Persian cat 
 
 Courboys seemed to think the odds were in favour of 
 Toto. He gave me a great many hints with regard to the 
 proper manner of bathing the parrot, of drying him ; of 
 keeping him warm, of keeping him cool ; of preserving 
 both his person and his cage free from parasites ; and drew 
 me up a dietary schedule, upon a half-sheet of foolscap, 
 which enumerated, not only the various things which were 
 good for Toto, but those which were not. Then we sent 
 for a four-wheeled cab, and as a surprised and apparently 
 gratified servant removed the green-cloth-obscured cage 
 from the window-table, Courboys lifted a corner of the 
 cover with a trembling hand. 
 
 " Good-bye, old chappie. I'm infernally sorry, but it's 
 got to be !" he stuttered. 
 
 There was no response beyond a low, contemptuous 
 chuckle. But when the jingling growler was well on its
 
 TOTO THE TEMPTER 141 
 
 way to Dover Street, I, sitting opposite the shrouded 
 dwelling of the disturber of Courboys' domestic peace, 
 delicately inserted the end of my cane, and found it 
 vigorously grabbed by a bill of iron. ... A moment 
 later, and as Toto, disappointed of the anticipated finger, 
 whistled shrilly, the cab drew up in Dover Street. The 
 driver, a shiny bundle of oilskins, rolled from his perch 
 and opened the door, and, by the joint efforts of Jehu 
 and porter, Toto, not without extracting tribute of human 
 gore, was extracted from the cab, put into the lift, and 
 finally deposited on the table in my dining-room. 
 
 " You will be getting quite a stay-at-home soon, sir, 
 with that dear, intelligent creature to keep you company !" 
 said my housekeeper, who had fallen instantly a victim to 
 the meretricious charms of Lord Alfred's legacy. Have 
 I mentioned that I am elderly, and that my housekeeper 
 was selected for me by an aunt who takes an almost 
 maternal interest in my welfare? "Pretty Polly!" Mrs. 
 Smale continued, " scratch-a-poll, Polly !" 
 
 But Toto pondered, with his head on one side, and made 
 no response lo these affectionate overtures. The unhappy 
 woman became more assiduous, pressing a lump of sugar 
 on the reluctant bird. Then Toto, smarting from the 
 severance of home ties and the unjust sentence of banish- 
 ment under which he laboured, shook out his feathers, 
 looked Mrs. Smalc cynically in the face, and uttered three 
 words, the effect of which was to send the good woman, 
 cherry -red and snorting with indignation, from the room. 
 
 I thought it time to expostulate, and did so ; but Toto 
 only drew corks, champagne for choice, and I had not yet 
 dined. Mrs. Smale was a capital cook ; and under the 
 advice of the aunt before mentioned, who lived in Hanover 
 Square, and from whom I reasonably expected to inherit 
 a considerable sum in Rails and Consols, with the house in
 
 142 TOTO THE TEMPTER 
 
 Hanover Square and a few other desirable plums out of 
 this world's pudding, I had of late frequented the club 
 less regularly. As I changed for dinner it occurred to me 
 that I would, for once, abandon the whisky and Oxy- 
 genaris recommended by my doctor, and have instead a 
 bottle of a dry and super-excellent vintage of which I 
 possessed a small stock. Mathewson, my servant, an old 
 butler of Aunt Harriet's, who waited upon and dressed 
 me as though I were her property rather than my own, 
 shook his head upon receiving my order, but I pretended 
 not to see. And I sat down to dinner. 
 
 In the middle of grace, which I made a point of saying, 
 the champagne-cork was explosively drawn, and I shook 
 my head at Mathewson. 
 
 " It was the bird, sir !" explained Mathewson, purple 
 with wounded feeling. 
 
 Toto was dancing in his cage, but as Mathewson shook 
 his fist at him he drove his sledge-hammer beak against 
 the cage-wires and shrieked three saw-edged shrieks of 
 defiance. The hand of Mathewson trembled as he filled 
 my glass with the creaming wine, and — 
 
 " A half -bottle ! . . . I ordered a whole one. Get out 
 another, please," I said. 
 
 " You'll be worse for it to-morrow, Master — Mr. John !" 
 pleaded Mathewson. 
 
 In my soul I knew that the prediction would be fulfilled, 
 and had not Toto at that psychological moment bleated 
 like a lamb, my instant of hesitation would have ended in 
 revocation of the order. But the mockery conveyed in 
 Toto's imitation, and the contempt that glared from his 
 round eye, decided me. 
 
 "Get out another bottle, please," I repeated. "A 
 
 whole one !" 
 
 And as the astounded and scandalized Mathewson de- 
 parted to fulfil the order, Toto burst into a fit of triumphant,
 
 TOTO THE TEMPTER 143 
 
 shrill laughter. " Who's afraid ?" he demanded, then 
 drew more corks and sang a stave of " Merrily Danced the 
 Quaker's Wife." The Quaker was pointedly meant for 
 Mathewson. I went over to Toto's cage and gave him a 
 banana, and was rewarded by a " Thank you, ducky," 
 and a scrap of a French drinking song : 
 
 " Quoi de plus doux 
 Que les glougloux — 
 Les glougloux du vin a quat' sous ?" 
 
 " Only it isn't vin a qualre sous," I said, as I returned to 
 table, " but ' Pol Georges, Carte d'Or, Extra Sec, Black 
 Foil, 1890, at a hundred and sixty shillings.' " 
 
 " Haye /" said Toto, in excellent Japanese. 
 
 " You won't go to the club to-night, Master — Mr. John ?" 
 said Mathewson, who had returned with an imperial pint 
 of the Pol Georges. 
 
 " I may look in," I replied, with the bravado of indiffer- 
 ence. And Mathewson sighed and opened the fresh bottle 
 with a martyred air. 
 
 I chose a cigar and settled down on my divan with the 
 evening paper. I did not really intend going to the club. 
 But as time waned and the bottle emptied, I was conscious 
 of a brisk inclination to sociability. Movement, stir, ex- 
 citement, agreeable suspense of some kind were suggested 
 in their turn by a peculiar noise Toto was making. Over 
 and over again it came — imitated to perfection — the click 
 and rattle of a roulette ball, the monotonous repetitions of 
 the croupier, the chink of money thrown down, pushed out 
 or raked in. I am not a gambler, but I enjoy games of 
 chance, and Courboys had once or twice invited me to 
 accompany him to a certain top-floor flat in Ego Street, 
 where, after the 'witching hour, what the prodigal termed 
 " a little flutter " at roulette and baccarat might be had. 
 I recalled the single evening I had spent at Ego Street, and 
 the sum I had won, some twenty sovereigns, and the in-
 
 144 TOTO THE TEMPTER 
 
 clination to look in again for ten minutes became over- 
 powering. I got off the divan, ascertained that I had 
 sufficient cash upon me, and moved to the door. 
 
 " Going out, Master — Mr. John ?" sighed Mathewson, 
 emerging from his lair as I reached down my hat and 
 overcoat from the hall-rack. I turned on him an eye as 
 glassy and as brazen as Toto's own. 
 
 " I am going out. Don't sit up, please," I added, very 
 distinctly. 
 
 But Mathewson disobeyed orders. His eye upon the 
 following day spoke volumes, and, tortured as I was by 
 twinges of rheumatism, I endeavoured to hide, as far as 
 possible, my sufferings from the aged man. A certain 
 heaviness in the head and a coy shrinking from food I 
 boldly ascribed to a change in the weather, and a bilious 
 tinge perceptible in my complexion I put down to a salad- 
 dressing compounded the previous day, from my aunt's 
 own recipe, by Mrs. Smale. In these glaring unveracities 
 Toto was my upholder and abettor. 
 
 " I don't care for you !" he brazenly replied, when ex- 
 postulated with by my indignant housekeeper. " Have a 
 little drop of brandy, do !" It was with an admirable 
 imitation of Mrs. Smale's own voice that Toto conveyed 
 the hospitable invitation, and she smiled, perforce in 
 tribute to the talent of the bird. But when Toto proceeded 
 to kiss ; smack, return-smack and counter, she lost patience, 
 bridled, and grew palpably confused. Delighted with the 
 effect produced, Toto persevered, until a kiss of a peculiarly 
 succulent and prolonged description drove the incensed 
 widow from the room. 
 
 The rest of the day passed quietly, Stanistreet, an old 
 University chum, dropping in after dinner to play a game 
 of chess. But the game flagged, owing to Toto. He kissed 
 the entire evening, ringing the changes — sounding the entire 
 gamut of osculation in a style reminiscent of Bathyllus.
 
 TOTO THE TEMPTER 145 
 
 He kissed coyly, provokingly, warmly, uxoriously. The 
 kiss explosive, punctuated by " Don't !" and immediately 
 followed by another salute, even more suggestive of the 
 detonation of gun-cotton, was, perhaps, his triumph. It 
 broke up the evening, Stanistreet, a red-haired man, 
 recently married, posting his rooks with such culpable 
 carelessness that he lost the game from the very outset, 
 and went home to Mrs. Stanistreet in a cab, though the 
 distance between Dover Street and Norfolk Street, Park 
 Lane, is scarcely worth mentioning. Naturally annoyed 
 at the premature breaking-up of what had promised to be 
 a social evening, I looked in at the Alhambra for a turn or 
 two, encountering Courboys in the promenade. 
 
 " I'm in a private box with the missus," he explained. 
 Then he asked after Toto. " It's a sacrifice," he sighed, 
 with a shake of his little bullet head, " but it's done the 
 trick, Jack, my boy ! Alice always said that bird was 
 enough to corrupt a regiment. Fact, by Jove !" 
 
 Mrs. Courboys probably said so again that evening, for 
 her eye, when I met her in the Park on the following 
 Sunday, was glacially severe. Courboys was with her, carry- 
 ing a " Church Service " and lifting her white Pomeranian 
 over the puddles with quite pre-nuptial devotion. One saw 
 that here was a link renewed, and felt that, in bringing 
 about the reunion of these two married people, one had 
 done something to be, perhaps, a little proud of. Not that 
 one had ever posed as a moralist, over brandishing one's 
 own lofty principles, delicate scruples, and high standard 
 of conduct in the face of society — so content as a rule to 
 accept people without these, provided they are smart, Veil- 
 looking, well-bred, and well-mone3 T ed. But still — 
 
 An umbrella-ferrule poked me in what is vulgarly known 
 as " the small " of the back. I turned round, to recognize 
 Aunt Harriet's companion, Miss Hake, a little mouse- 
 coloured woman with watery eyes, perpetually dressed in 
 
 10
 
 146 TOTO THE TEMPTER 
 
 black trimmed with jet beads, regarding me with the 
 expression of a martyr. 
 
 " Mr. John ! . . ." she gasped. 
 
 My aunt's capacious terra-cotta landau, back down, 
 front up, drawn by the two fat greys and driven by a 
 septuagenarian coachman, was waiting ; aunt's bonnet was 
 observing us ; aunt's stout hand, encased in a violet kid 
 glove, imperiously waved us to approach. 
 
 " My dear Miss Hake," I began, for the little woman 
 could not repress her agitation. I have reason to believe 
 that Miss Hake regards me with something warmer than 
 mere esteem, and that she cherishes in a locket attached 
 to her old-fashioned snake watch-chain a piece of hair 
 which, to confess, is a different colour from that I am 
 wearing now. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. John !" she gasped again, " you have been 
 terribly rash of late, and things have reached us — 
 
 which " She turned up her poor damp eyes to express 
 
 the things unspeakable, and swallowed a sob. ' You will 
 be questioned — you know, everybody knows what your 
 aunt is when put out. Be careful. Oh, be careful ! She 
 has written to her lawyers — she " 
 
 But we were beckoned by the imperious purple gloves 
 into the ark of a landau, and rolling out at Grosvenor Gate 
 before I could frame a question or collect my ideas. And 
 the septuagenarian coachman, evidently under previous 
 orders, drove us straight to Dover Street. 
 
 We ascended in the lift, Aunt Harriet seated, her purple 
 gloves outspread upon her violet satin lap, the crimson 
 roses in her green bonnet nodding forebodings, Miss Hake 
 standing by, ready, at a moment's notice, to administer 
 red lavender and apply salts. The traitor Mathewson 
 opened the door, and started in affected surprise ; the 
 faithless Smale appeared with a face dimpled with wel- 
 coming smiles. My aunt made for the dining-room, where 

 
 TOTO THE TEMPTER 147 
 
 Toto was engaged in giving a spirited imitation of a cat- 
 fight. 
 
 " Is this the creature ?" she exclaimed. 
 
 Toto, catching sight of her, broke off, his lower mandible 
 dropping, his round eyes glaring with astonishment. I 
 believe he was under the impression, at first, that a relative 
 from the Valley of the Amazon had come to call. It was 
 plainly time for me to speak. 
 
 " My dear Aunt Harriet," I began, " may I presume at 
 length to ask the reason of your very apparent agitation, 
 and the evident prejudice you display towards this bird, 
 of which I do not remember ever having spoken to you 
 before ?" 
 
 " John," my aunt replied, seating herself with her back 
 carefully turned to Toto, " why should I seek to hide, or 
 they be ashamed of it ? I have heard certain things from 
 Mrs. Smale and Mathewson, old servants who take a 
 genuinely affectionate interest in you, and not spies, as 
 you are pleased to call them !" I had not opened my lips. 
 " I am horrified to hear that you have — give me the salts, 
 Hake — on several occasions within the last fortnight — 
 returned home at three, four, and four-thirty ante-meridian, 
 and once not at all !" 
 
 " My dear aunt," I permitted myself to remark, as Aunt 
 Harriet shuddered violently, " if I had not returned at all 
 I could not be here now !" 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha !" broke in Toto, as Aunt Harriet glared at 
 me speechlessly. " Poor old boy, silly old fool ! Miaow, 
 miaow, molriaow ! Cats ! S's's !" 
 
 " Even the bird laughs, John, at the puerility of your 
 attempt to turn the conversation," said Aunt Harriet, 
 with flaming cheeks. Her very bonnet trembled with 
 indignation, and she clenched her hands so violently to 
 restrain the words that surged behind her expensive 
 American teeth that she split the back of one of her purple
 
 148 TOTO THE TEMPTER 
 
 gloves and a button flew off the other. " Whence you 
 obtained the creature I do not know ; but from all that 
 Smale and Mathewson have reported to me, I should judge 
 that it has been bred amid the lowest surroundings. Your 
 partiality for its conversation evinces the coarseness of 
 your tastes. Mercy upon us ! How I have been deceived 
 in you ! But it is not too late. I have still time to select 
 an heir from my brother Edward's family " — Aunt Harriet 
 had always loathed Uncle Edward — " and to alter my 
 will." 
 
 Nothing but the recollection of that snug sum invested 
 in Home Rails, of those thriving three per cent. Govern- 
 ment securities, and the house in Hanover Square, could 
 have bent my stubborn nature to the extent of pacifying 
 aunt with an admission of my recent backslidings, and a 
 promise of amendment. That I furnished my despotic 
 relative with the smallest amount of actual fact which 
 might be held to constitute the entire truth may be con- 
 jectured. The excuse that Toto had urged me to the com- 
 mission of the regrettable imprudences I refrained from 
 making. He, by dint of leering at Aunt Harriet and 
 entreating her, whenever her glance visited his cage, to 
 have a drop of brandy, was fast establishing over the 
 spinster lady the diabolical fascination to which I can 
 to-day attribute the unsatisfactory condition of my 
 pecuniary affairs. She accepted my excuses, my vows of 
 reformation ; she permitted me, as the seal of our recon- 
 ciliation, to press my lips upon her cheek ; she scratched 
 Toto's head at his pressing invitation, and swept out of my 
 little dining-room in a purple cloud of satin. Faded Miss 
 Hake and I brought up the rear ; the little woman's eyes 
 were more watery than usual, as she congratulated me 
 upon my escape. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. John !" she breathed, in a soft, agitated tone. 
 A smacking kiss that cracked like the report of a saloon-
 
 TOTO THE TEMPTER 149 
 
 pistol followed on the words ; and Aunt Harriet pirouetted 
 round in the doorway with a scream of indignation ! 
 
 Toto had ruined me. All was over. In vain Miss Hake 
 wept, in vain I asseverated my innocence and hers. 
 
 { You — you libertine ! Behind my very back you cor- 
 rupt a creature who has eaten my bread and enjoyed my 
 protection for twenty years ! Had I not heard with my 
 very own ears, I should never have credited it — never !" 
 
 Endurance had been taxed too far. As Miss Hake went 
 down in hysterics on my Turkey rug, I seized a heavy 
 metal paper-cutter and rushed at Toto's cage. But a 
 podgy hand in a burst violet glove grasped me vigorously 
 by the arm that was uplifted to destroy the fiend-possessed 
 author of my ruin. 
 
 "Kill the bird — the creature you havefed and cherished, — 
 to gratify your malevolence ! . . . I forbid you to touch a 
 hair of its head !" Aunt shrieked. " Stand aside, sir ! 
 Mathewson, carry this cage downstairs and put it in the 
 carriage. As for that creature," she indicated the un- 
 happy Hake, sniffing feebly at the salts-bottle held and 
 administered by Mrs. Smale, " a quarter's salary shall be 
 sent to any address she chooses to forward. Never, either 
 of you, darken my doors again !" 
 
 And Aunt Harriet, in a whirlwind of rage, shook the 
 dust of Dover Street from her large-sized shoe-soles, and, 
 having dismissed her companion and disowned her nephew 
 at one blow, went homo to hino.heon. 
 
 Years have fled. Courboys has become a model hus- 
 band. I am a poor man, not because Aunt Harriet re- 
 mained obstinate — our misunderstanding was cleared up 
 some years previous to her death — but because that once 
 wealthy spinster died bankrupt, having gambled away her 
 entire fortune at the tables of Baden Baden and Monte 
 Carlo. The Italian ex-croupier, passing as an Austro-
 
 150 
 
 TOTO THE TEMPTER 
 
 Hungarian Grand Duke, with whom the unhappy old lady 
 contracted a romantic marriage, turned out to have been 
 previously married to a tobacconist's saleswoman at Nice, 
 and the family got rid of him with the slightest possible 
 difficulty. 
 
 Toto the tempter — to whom I unhesitatingly ascribe 
 Courboys's deviations from virtue, my own imprudent 
 conduct, and my unfortunate relative's lapse from strict 
 propriety — Toto remains in the possession of the Signor ; 
 from which fact I reap the expectation that he will in- 
 fallibly end in prison or at the galleys. To harbour a 
 parrot of talents like to Toto's is to tempt Destiny and 
 court Fate.
 
 XIII 
 
 CLAIRVOYANCE 
 
 " Let's get through with the correspondence, there's a 
 love !" urged Miss Predicta. " I've six important appoint- 
 ments, to read the future between eleven-thirty and lunch, 
 besides the chance callers that may drop in. By the way, 
 what do you think of the new door-plate, ' Predicta ' in 
 big black letters, and nothing else ?" 
 
 " The most strikingest thing in the line I ever see, Jenny 
 dear !" said the typist, clicking back the bar and ringing 
 a little bell, as she slid a sheet of paper into the machine. 
 
 ' Most striking,' please ; and don't call me Jenny in 
 business hours," said Miss Predicta freezingly. Then she 
 dictated : 
 
 Bond Street. 
 "Madam, — 
 
 " We regret to hear that the crystal supplied does 
 not show coming events as clearly as you could wish. We 
 are quite ready on its return, accompanied by your cheque 
 or P.O. for ten shillings extra, to supply the more expensive 
 Himalayan article, as used by the leading Mahatmas." 
 
 " Be careful about your spelling, as this is a doctor's 
 wife in a country town. If she was a Duchess it wouldn't 
 matter !" said Miss Predicta. 
 
 " That word always bothers me," said the typist, stopping 
 to use the india-rubber. " Six different ways I've spelt 
 Mahatma — in one letter alone — and not one of 'em turned 
 out right. But you always was the clever one of us two, 
 
 151
 
 152 CLAIRVOYANCE 
 
 in spelling and everything else. There's the client's bell, 
 Jenny dear!" 
 
 " Jenny dear " jumped up as a telephone-bell whirred, 
 and, unhooking the receiver, listened to the wiry voice 
 that came from the ground-floor. 
 
 " C.C.S.A.T.L.L.C.," ticked the telephone in Miss Pre- 
 dicta's private alphabetical cypher-code. 
 
 " Casual Caller, Swell About Town, Looks Like Cash," 
 translated Miss Predicta mentally. She glided between 
 the plush curtains into the bower of mystery, and had 
 barely time to fall upon a chair painted with cabalistic 
 characters and plunge into a profound reverie before the 
 Casual Caller appeared. He was tall, tawny, square- 
 shouldered, attired in accurately cut morning tweeds, and 
 brought with him the last whiff of the Havana thrown 
 away upon Miss Predicta's threshold. 
 
 " Haw !" said he, with an air of polite embarrassment. 
 " I was told— that is " 
 
 His eye took in an interior chastely draped and decorated 
 in red, carefully screened from the light of day, and 
 illuminated by an electric star in the ceiling. 
 
 " Haw !" he said again. 
 
 Miss Predicta opened her eyes, two deep blue wells of 
 mystery, and pushed a chestnut-tinted mass of carefully 
 disarranged hair from her brow. Robed in a black velvet 
 tea-gown trimmed with cheap imitation point, she cer- 
 tainly looked spiritual, if not mystical. 
 
 " You wished to know something of what the Future 
 holds in store for you, sir ?" 
 
 " Ton my word !" said the Casual Caller, putting a well- 
 groomed hard felt hat on the little centre table covered 
 with a cabalistic cloth, " I can't quite say. Your door- 
 plate caught my eye in passing. A young man — pimply 
 boy rather — asked me to walk in, and then said the charge 
 was half-a-crown to see the clairvoyante."
 
 CLAIRVOYANCE 153 
 
 " To see the clairvoyante. But our fee for reading the 
 Future is half-a-guinea," said Miss Predicta. 
 
 " The matter with my future is — it's painfully clear," 
 said the Casual Caller, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Army," ticked off Miss Predicta, mentally noting the 
 regimental colours of his tie, the tanned muscular hands, 
 and the white strip of forehead above the healthy sunburn 
 of his pleasant countenance. 
 
 " Originally magasin," silently observed the Casual 
 Caller. " Millinery or Mantles. Had ambitions. . . . 
 Wonder who helped her to this start ?" 
 
 " If you were about to engage in any enterprise, the 
 clairvoyante might advise," said Miss Predicta. 
 
 " Mine is not," said the Casual Caller gravely, " an 
 enterprising disposition." 
 
 " Or if you wanted to invest money ! . . . Bet on a race, 
 for instance," Miss Predicta hazarded. 
 
 " Do you foretell winners ?" the Casual Caller asked with 
 interest. 
 
 " Occasionally," said Miss Predicta, guardedly. 
 
 " It must spoil a man's fun to know beforehand that 
 his beast is going to tootle in Number One," said the Casual 
 Caller. " No ; I don't think I'll invest to-day." 
 
 " We supply horoscopes, character and marriage 
 charts," said Miss Predicta, alluringly, " at reasonable 
 prices." 
 
 " Suppose a husband steers by one of your marriage- 
 charts, and strikes reef in a spot where none is marked," 
 the Casual Caller queried, " does he sue you for damages, 
 or do you shirk responsibility ?" 
 
 " We instruct in the science of Hypnotism," said Miss 
 Predicta. " Perhaps you might care to take a course of 
 lessons ? Or, if you have lost a relative or dear friend, 
 whom you cannot trace, the clairvoyante might possibly 
 put you on the track."
 
 154 CLAIRVOYANCE 
 
 " By Jove ! Now you remind me," said the Casual 
 Caller, " I have lost a friend. Quite lately too." 
 
 : 'Then," suggested Miss Predicta, pushing a papier 
 mac he skull money-box across the little table, " if you wish 
 to consult the clairvoyante, our charge is ten-and-six." 
 From force of habit she nearly added " three-farthings." 
 
 " Pretty idea that !" said the Casual Caller, as he ex- 
 tracted half a sovereign and sixpence from his waistcoat - 
 pocket and dropped them into the skull. " So cheery !" 
 
 He added : " I may presume, then, that I have the 
 pleasure of addressing you as a clairvoyante ?" 
 
 " Would you kindly remove your hat ?" said Miss 
 Predicta, preparing to dive into the future. 
 
 " Certainly. I beg your pardon." The Casual Caller 
 transferred his hat to a chair. " You ladies are running us 
 close," he observed. " Nothing for the men to do soon, 
 positively. My sister patronizes a lady-chemist ; most of 
 the business men I know employ lady secretaries. I sent 
 off a wireless message just now ; the operator was a young 
 lady — handed me change for a fiver, two shillings short — 
 with a perfectly charmin' smile. Dropped in at my gun- 
 maker's to be fitted for a new gun, and was measured for 
 a sporting double self-ejectin' breech-loader by a young 
 woman who knocked the clay birds over right and left, 
 quite like a professional shootist. Haw !" 
 
 Miss Predicta drew a little wand of black wood with an 
 open hand at the end of it from behind the cushion of her 
 chair. She pointed this at the electric ceiling-star, and 
 with the assistance of a switch under the table the lights 
 became a cheerless blue. 
 
 " i 8av — what !" exclaimed the Casual Caller. 
 
 " I must ask you not to talk," said Miss Predicta, severely. 
 11 The spirits object to idle conversation," she added. 
 
 " In business hours — quite correct !" nodded the Casual 
 Caller.
 
 CLAIRVOYANCE 155 
 
 Miss Predicta, hoping to induce awe, pedalled the foot- 
 switch, and the lights went green. 
 
 "Do the spirits do that ?" inquired the Casual Caller. 
 " Because," he added, as Miss Predicta bowed her head in 
 assent, " I wish you would kindly ask 'em to select a more 
 becoming colour." As the light revolved to rose, he added, 
 "That's awfully nice; thanks such a lot !" and Miss Predicta 
 felt herself blush slightly under the appreciative directness 
 of his gaze. Her hand shook a little as she lighted a 
 pastille in an imitation Satsuma incense -burner. 
 
 " Phew ! I say, do the spirits really want a smell of 
 that kind ?" objected the Casual Caller. " Because, if 
 not " 
 
 Miss Predicta, whose gaze was professionally fixed, made 
 no reply. The pastille sent up a nasty little fume ; the 
 roar of Bond Street came through the red curtains. . . , 
 Suddenly the Casual Caller sneezed. 
 
 " Couldn't help it, upon my word," said he, in muffled 
 tones filtered through a silk handkerchief of the newest 
 shade. ' Wonder the spirits stand it, by Jove I 
 do!" 
 
 " I must really ask you not to talk !" said Miss Predicta. 
 She placed a crystal ball on an ebony stand upon the 
 table, and snapped the lights out. The crystal shone 
 moonily in the obscurity. " Now think of your lost 
 friend," ordered Miss Predicta in a voice effectively hollow. 
 " Think — and I will gaze in the magic ball and tell you 
 what I see." 
 
 The Casual Caller bent over the table. The faces of the 
 inquirer and of the seeress were con jectur ally six inches 
 apart. The perfume of excellent cigars, mingled with the 
 blameless odour of clean linen and a twang of Russia 
 leather saluted Miss Predicta's nostrils in agreeable whiffs. 
 The Casual Caller on his part was aware of violet soap, 
 pearl powder, singed hair — Miss Predicta had used the
 
 156 
 
 CLAIRVOYANCE 
 
 undulators too hot that morning— and the searching 
 fragrance of a sweetmeat dear to him in youth. 
 
 " Now tell me your thoughts," said Miss Predicta. 
 " Do all prophetesses eat peppermints ?" asked the 
 Casual Caller. 
 
 " You are rude, I must say !" said Miss Predicta huffily. 
 " You wanted to know what I was thinking," said the 
 Casual Caller apologetically. "And that was what I 
 thought." 
 
 "Oh! but you mustn't think about me," said Miss 
 Predicta with some coquetry. " Think about the friend 
 you have lost. Keep on thinking quite hard !" 
 " I do . . . I am !" said the Casual Caller. 
 " Man ?" queried Miss Predicta, " or woman ?" 
 " She was a dear little thing !" said the Casual Caller. 
 His voice shook. 
 
 " Woman !" said Miss Predicta lucidly. " Of what 
 complexion," she added — " blonde or brunette ?" 
 
 For a moment the Casual Caller did not appear able to 
 reply. The little table shook and the crystal quivered. 
 
 " He loves her still," thought Miss Predicta, " no matter 
 how she's treated him. Some people do have luck !" She 
 repeated her interrogation. " Was she dark or fair, or 
 neither the one nor the other — like me ?" 
 
 The table shook again slightly. Then—" She had brown 
 eyes," said the Casual Caller chokily. 
 
 " Did you consider she was very attached ?" queried 
 Miss Predicta. " It looks, in the crystal," she added, " as 
 if the love was more on one side than the other. Was she 
 fond of you ?" 
 
 The Casual Caller replied in muffled tones : " Awfully. 
 Used to go with me everywhere, and, if I happened to go 
 out without her, sit watching for hours for me to come 
 back." 
 
 " And did her love die out suddenly ?" asked Miss Pre-
 
 CLAIRVOYANCE 157 
 
 dicta, peering into the crystal. " There's a blur here that 
 seems like a change. And brown-eyed women are very 
 deceitful." 
 
 " I came home one day " The Casual Caller faltered. 
 
 " And found her out V* interrogated Miss Predicta. 
 
 " Found her gone," gasped the Casual Caller. The 
 table not only shook, but creaked, and Miss Predicta, who 
 had read in novels of the agony of a strong man in sorrow, 
 swallowed a sigh. 
 
 " She had deserted you ?" she hinted. " It looks like 
 it — in the crystal !" 
 
 " She had broken her chain," said the Casual Caller 
 gloomily, " and bolted out of the house." 
 
 " There was a chain, then ?" the seeress hinted. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said the Casual Caller. 
 
 " How long had you been married ?" asked Miss Predicta 
 boldly. 
 
 " Not long," said the Casual Caller. 
 
 " Quite recently ?" asked Miss Predicta. 
 
 " So recently," said the Casual Caller, " that the affair 
 hasn't come off yet. I happen to be a bachelor. Haw !" 
 
 " Oh, I never ! . . . You really " Miss Predicta 
 
 tingled to her finger-tips with indignation at this shameless 
 effrontery. " So good-looking," she thought, " to be 
 such a wretch !" " But there's a wedding in the crystal," 
 she resumed. " I can see a Bishop's sleeves and a lot of 
 white flowers, and — certainly there's a cake. Yes, without 
 doubt, a cake !" 
 
 " Perhaps it's your wedding," said the Casual Caller, 
 " and your cake ?" 
 
 " It's your future," said Miss Predicta, freezingly. " Did 
 you endeavour to trace her ?" she continued, " the poor 
 unhappy creature with the brown eyes who fled from the 
 shelter of your roof when she broke the chain that — you 
 know ! Of course, you've tried to trace her ?"
 
 158 CLAIRVOYANCE 
 
 " Hunted everywhere," said the Casual Caller. " Ad- 
 vertised. Went round to all my friends' rooms on the 
 chance of tumbling over her." 
 
 " Oh !" gasped Miss Predicta. " The idea !" 
 
 " That was one of her chief faults. Would go to people's 
 houses she'd taken a fancy to," said the Casual Caller. 
 " Nothing could break her of it !" 
 
 Miss Predicta's eyebrows went up under cover of the 
 darkness. 
 
 " But when she never turned up I had to come to the 
 conclusion she'd been kidnapped," continued the Casual 
 Caller. " Mothers are hardly likely to run away, you know, 
 when there are two podgy, round-bodied little beggars 
 rolling on the hearthrug and whimpering for her to come 
 back." 
 
 " A mother," observed Miss Predicta sarcastically, " but 
 some women have no natural feeling. Two innocent 
 babies abandoned ! When she might have put 'em into 
 their perambulator, and taken them too ! I say it's a 
 shame !" 
 
 The table quivered convulsively. In the obscurity Miss 
 Predicta became aware that the Casual Caller had pulled 
 out his handkerchief and was mopping his e} r es. 
 
 " Th-thank you !" he gasped. " It does seem unnatural, 
 doesn't it ? Perhaps you would kindly look into the 
 crystal and try whether you can get a glimpse of her ?" 
 
 " What was her Christian name ?" demanded Miss 
 Predicta, relieved to find that the profligate's better nature 
 was asserting itself at last. 
 
 " I called her ' Floss,' " gurgled the Casual Caller. 
 
 " There was no quarrel previous to her disappearance %" 
 hinted Miss Predicta. 
 
 " No. N-no," hesitated the Casual Caller. " Except — 
 but you couldn't call that a quarrel !" 
 
 "Couldn't call what?"
 
 CLAIRVOYANCE 159 
 
 " What took place," said the Casual Caller. " I'd told 
 the little beast to fetch my gloves — a thing she'd done 
 thousands of times. She disobeyed me, and I gave her a cut 
 with a riding-cane. That's all !" 
 
 ' You brute !" rose to Miss Predicta's lips, but she kept 
 the words back with an effort. All her sympathies went out 
 to the woman — the mother, who had suffered outrage at 
 this aristocrat's ruthless hands. She bent over the crystal, 
 resolved to awaken his dormant conscience at the expense 
 of veracity. " Silence, please !" she said. " The shadows 
 begin to clear. Now they move aside. What is this ?" 
 At the cue, started by the typist in the next room, a musical- 
 box began to discourse the " Shadow Dance " from Dinar ah. 
 
 " I see," continued Miss Predicta, " a lonely road. The 
 figure of a woman, distraught and terror-stricken, recedes 
 into the distance. Her face is turned from me. Now she 
 looks back. She has brown eyes. Was she wearing a 
 sable fur when she disappeared ?" 
 
 The table rocked violently. After an interval of struggle 
 the Casual Caller managed to say : " No, dog-skin — with a 
 head and one tail." 
 
 ' They cab it European fox," said Miss Predicta severely 
 She thought he might have bought something better than 
 that for the helpless creature who had sacrificed all for him. 
 Now she lifted her hand dramatically as she cried : " The 
 scene changes ! I see a garret room with a bed. The same 
 woman lies upon it. A doctor bends over her. A reverend- 
 looking gentleman with white hair enters. Listen — she 
 speaks ! ' Tell him that I forgive him,'' she falters — ' him, 
 the author of my misery and ruin /' " The musical-box 
 broke off the " Shadow Dance " and clicked into " Abide 
 with me." " ' Entreat him to take care of my poor, 
 deserted, nameless children! — to marry a better woman! — to 
 see that my grave is kept green, and for the future lead a 
 blameless life!' She sinks back. I hear the death-rattle. 
 All is over ! Unhappy Floss is no more !"
 
 160 CLAIRVOYANCE 
 
 Miss Predicta switched up the lights and confronted the 
 crimson face and tear- distilling eyes of the Casual Caller. 
 
 " Th-thank you so awf -awfully !" he stammered ; " but 
 you've made one mistake. The — the children aren't name- 
 less. One is called ' Waggle ' and the other ' Dash.' And 
 Floss happens to be a liver-and-white Clumber spaniel — a 
 Palace Cup winner — I value very much. But I'm un- 
 commonly obliged, all the same. Most interesting seance /" 
 
 Miss Predicta faced him, with poppy-red cheeks and 
 blazing eyes. The musical-box left off before " Amen." 
 " Do you want your money back ?" she demanded. " Do 
 you mean to spread about how you came in and guyed — 
 and made a fool of me when I thought " 
 
 " When you thought you were making a fool of me ? 
 My dear young lady, don't be alarmed !" said the Casual 
 Caller. "As to injuring you in the clairvoyante business, 
 I shall make a point of sendin' in my friends. If they 
 
 enjoy themselves as much as I have done " His 
 
 shoulders shook again. "But you make one mistake. 
 Shouldn't take it for granted that every man who wears a 
 decent coat and — and necktie is a blackguard. No, by 
 Jove !" He shook his head and put his hat upon it. 
 " Good-morning, Miss — ahem ! — Miss Clairvoyante." 
 
 Miss Predicta, with tear-blurred vision, saw the Casual 
 Caller on the steps of departure. " Good-morning. And 
 I truly beg your pardon. But whether you forgive me or 
 not," she sighed, " I shall never see you again! " 
 
 " Would you care to ?" The Casual Caller wheeled upon 
 the threshold of the crimson temple, and as he smiled it 
 seemed to Miss Predicta that the electric light had snapped 
 back to rose. " Would you really ? Haw ! Because, if 
 so — if you'd really — care to — see me again — you'd 
 better " 
 
 " Better ?" gasped Miss Predicta, with a thumping heart. 
 
 " Better look in the Magic Crystal !" said the Casual 
 Caller. " Good-day !"
 
 XIV 
 
 IN THE LAGOON 
 
 Savaran might have been lost to society for some three 
 years, when by some strange chance we light upon him 
 among the low-lying coral islands of Torres Strait, painfully 
 striving to wrest from eighteen fathoms of blue lagoon- 
 water some small portion of that wealth which in his hey- 
 day he had dissipated so wantonly. 
 
 Savaran, upon whom the title of the Fortunate Young 
 Man had onoe been bestowed by universal acclamation — 
 Savaran, only remembered now as "an extravagant poor 
 devil who got broke and went out to Queensland " by men 
 who had shared those good things which his gods, at the 
 ripening of his twenty-third year, had lavished upon him 
 — Savaran, once master of half a million, had invested the 
 few poor hundreds salvaged from the general wreck in the 
 purchase of the seventy-ton lugger-rigged vessel Star of 
 Hope, fitted her with pumping-gear and diving apparatus, 
 and started life anew as a trader in coral and pearl-shell, 
 plying between the fishing-grounds of Western Australia 
 and the New Guinea coast. 
 
 His indifference to personal risk and his superb physique 
 stood him in good stead at this juncture. He was his own 
 supercargo and sailing-master, and had learned to be his 
 own diver. A complement of five made up his crew ; 
 four Manilla men and an Australian half-breed from Port 
 Kennedy relieved each other at the pumps, and tended the 
 life-lines. The present expedition had lasted a month ; 
 the vessel's hold contained copra, and store of shell ; pro- 
 
 101 11
 
 162 IN THE LAGOON 
 
 visions were running low ; and every day that burned in 
 gold and crimson upon the horizon might herald the arrival 
 of the Sydney purveyor's cutter bringing the necessary 
 supplies. 
 
 It was a white-hot day ; the sky was cloudless and the 
 breeze came out of the south-west too faintly to do more 
 than feather the green plumes of the palms upon the atoll. 
 The usual thunder of the breakers upon the outer reef had 
 died to a low moaning ; the waters of the lagoon were like 
 liquid opal. When the translucent surface rounded to a 
 swell the lugger cradled at her cable, otherwise she hung 
 still in a charmed silence, only broken by the shrill cries 
 of fishing-birds. Many of these were of most gorgeous 
 plumage ; and down in the lagoon depths, shoals of fishes, 
 their rivals in brilliancy of hue, sported amidst forests of 
 rainbow-tinted madrepores, whose living branches bathed 
 themselves in sunlight filtered through the crystal medium 
 of the tide. 
 
 The pumps stopped panting ; the man whose duty it 
 was to tend the life-lines became galvanized into activity. 
 Savaran came up from a depth of sixteen fathoms, like 
 some pre-Adamite sea-monster, panoplied in carapace of 
 solid steel, leaden-footed, helmeted with glowing copper, 
 eyed with tremendous goggles of glass. Lengths of india- 
 rubber tube, strengthened with iron wire, trailed behind 
 him, and he carried a branch of black coral in one gauntleted 
 hand. 
 
 The half-breed from Port Kennedy helped the diver over 
 the bulwarks, coiled away the life-tackle, and unshipped 
 the copper helmet. Relieved of its cumbrous weight, 
 Savaran drew a long, enjoying inspiration of the hot, salt, 
 sparkling air. Blood sprang and trickled from his ears 
 and nostrils for the third time that day. 
 
 He gave a brief direction as he turned away. Two of 
 the Manilla men went forward and busied themselves with
 
 IN THE LAGOON 163 
 
 hauling up the diver's net. They sang a droning capstan 
 chant as they gathered in the line, and the net came up 
 with some twenty pairs of rough-backed shell in it, and a 
 giant specimen of the beche de mer. The slimy, Bologna- 
 sausage shaped, gaudily-hued monstrosity was intended 
 as a reinforcement for the cooking-pot. The teeth of the 
 Manilla men watered as they handled it and thought of 
 trepang curried. 
 
 It was mid-noon by now, and the sunshine scalded like 
 molten gold. The pitched caulking hissed in the seams of 
 the vessel ; metal things were insupportable to the touch 
 of the naked hand. Labour was over for the day. The 
 cook cleaned and seethed the trepang, and curried it with the 
 usual ration of dried cod, and brought Sa varan (now un- 
 cased from his diver's panoply) his portion steaming in a 
 tin clipper, with snowy rice and two or three bananas, some 
 hard sea biscuits, and a mug of coffee : and being hungry 
 he ate, and drank, nor paused to remember the flesh-pots 
 of Clubland. 
 
 In the heyday of his prosperity he had never been a 
 dandy. Excellently well groomed, clothed with absolute 
 grace and propriety, he had been the despair of the emulous 
 and the admiration of the unenvying. But now he was 
 clad in a sea-stained cotton jumper and trousers of coarse 
 blue dungaree, and wore about his middle a gaudily-striped 
 scarf of Papuan manufacture, in the folds of which his 
 revolver and bowie-knife were thrust. In complexion he 
 was tanned to the hue of the Manilla men, temple and 
 cheek, throat and forearm having attained so tawny a 
 shade that the lightness of his eyes conveyed an effect 
 almost startling in its discrepancy ; and the long, unkempt 
 locks of his hair, the ends of his straggling moustache, and 
 the clipped edges of his pointed beard seemed white by 
 contrast, bleached to the silvery paleness of ripe barley 
 by the potent rays of a tropical sun.
 
 164 IN THE LAGOON 
 
 That sun set in majesty of trailing gold and purple. 
 Down in the stuffy forecastle, populous with cockroaches, 
 the Manilla men, converts of the Catholic Missionaries, 
 crossed themselves and said their evening prayers before 
 a gaudily painted plaster medallion of Our Lady, which 
 they had garlanded with a rosary of tiny rainbow-tinted 
 shells and nailed against the bowsprit-end. Then they 
 rolled themselves in their mats and fell asleep in their 
 berths, while the purple darkness stole upon land and 
 sea, and the great bright stars looked down upon their 
 reflections mirrored in the lagoon. 
 
 And Savaran sat on deck and opened pearl-oysters. He 
 never waited to rot shell, for reasons of his own, and he had 
 attained to extraordinary expertness in the occupation — 
 could have given points to any one of the white-aproned 
 attendants who operate behind London oyster-bars, and 
 beaten his opponent easily. 
 
 A lantern stood between his legs, and by the light of the 
 tallow dip contained in it he plied his task. His well- 
 accustomed fingers probed bivalve after bivalve, his brows 
 never relaxed from their intent fold. At last he drew a 
 quicker breath, tossed a dripping shell — the last — aside, 
 and held something to the light : something he carefully 
 shielded in the palm of his hollowed hand. It was a 
 pearl, spherical in shape, weighing some twenty carats, 
 and quite unblemished. Savaran looked at it scrutinizingly, 
 put it in his mouth and sucked it, took it out and rubbed 
 it carefully upon his sleeve. . . . 
 
 " In luck to-night ! " he said grimly. " That's worth 
 three hundred, if a sovereign." He drew from the breast 
 of his shirt a chamois-leather bag that was suspended about 
 his strong brown throat by a fine slender steel chain, 
 dropped the treasure-trove in among its fellows, and hid 
 it again quickly, fancying that curious eyes spied upon 
 him from the cabin's open companion-way. But he did not 

 
 IN THE LAGOON 165 
 
 glance about him to make sure ; to seem to harbour 
 suspicion would have been injudicious. He got up and 
 strode over the heap of debris, and went forward and stood 
 in the bows, looking out over the star-gemmed waters, 
 breathing in the perfumed breeze that blew from the 
 shore. 
 
 "Three hundred pounds, at least!" he whispered again. 
 " Another rung in the ladder ; another furlong in the race ; 
 another day worked off the tale of hundreds that must 
 dawn and darken, my dearest ! before I earn the right to 
 see your heavenly face again !" 
 
 Then his mood changed, and his diction, and he cursed 
 his ill-luck as elaborately as he knew how. For it is ill- 
 luck, most surely, that a man should only solve the 
 mystery of love when he has found out Ik ,v to spell ruin — 
 become a crowned king at the identical moment when the 
 clouted cloak of beggary falls upon his shoulders. There- 
 fore Sa varan swore, and found relief in the exercise. There, 
 in the perfumed darkness of the Pacific night, under the 
 purple-black canopy of heaven where the lamps of the 
 great stars swung, he lifted his arms above his head in a 
 desperate access of hungry, yearning, baffled human 
 passion, and called upon the name of the woman he loved — 
 for she seemed strangely near and agonizingly unattain- 
 able ; and the scent of her hair, and the velvet warmth of 
 her cheek, and the thrilling touch of her hand, and the 
 silken rustle of her gown, were present with him on this 
 night more vividly than they had ever been, so that he 
 sobbed with dry eyes, and cried aloud in torture. 
 
 " Nelia !" he cried ; " Nelia ! Wait for me ! Be true 
 to me ! I am coming to you — coming soon ! Be patient ! 
 Be faithful ! Ah, be faithful ! It— won't— won't be for 
 long !" 
 
 When we are shut out of Paradise by an angel with a 
 flaming sword, we weep and lament God's hard judgment
 
 166 IN THE LAGOON 
 
 and find a dismal comfort in wondering why so sore a fate 
 should have fallen upon our head. But when we have done 
 the shutting-out ourselves there are no tears to shed ; we 
 forged the flaming sword with our own hands, and the 
 knowledge renders suffering more exquisite still. 
 
 So Julius Sa varan cried upon his absent love to be true, 
 and lifted arid eyes to the unresponsive heavens. It was 
 strange that no doubt of her fidelity should ever have 
 crossed him before that night. He had always pictured 
 her as waiting — looking out into the future with yearning, 
 wistful eyes ; growing thin, perhaps, but lovelier always, 
 garlanded with the unfading roses of her love for him. 
 
 Oddly enough, at that moment Nelia's younger sister 
 was saying in the high accents of retrospective youth : 
 
 " You know, if poor dear Julius hadn't bounced that 
 half-million his uncle, the big banker, left him, everything 
 would have been so different for Nelia. But they never 
 met until he had been through the Bankruptcy Court and 
 got whitewashed — whatever that may mean — and then 
 they swore eternal fidelity, and he went away to the other 
 end of nowhere to make his fortune. She was to wait until 
 he had made it ; and she did — until she found she was 
 
 growing quite plain, and then properly Oh ! are they 
 
 really going to try the electric searchlight ? What for ? 
 Because they think these blots on the horizon mean an 
 island ? Oh, I wonder whether it is, and whether any- 
 body lives there ! Don't you ?" 
 
 Upon Savaran, standing rapt in his foolish dream of 
 love and longing upon the deck of his little craft, a sudden 
 pale radiance fell that was no starlight or lantern-shine. 
 The western sky was irradiated by it ; the crests of the 
 palms, the beach, the still lagoon, shone white while he 
 could have counted ten. Then all was dark and quiet. 
 It seemed as though the restless heart had had its answer, 
 and he went below and slept. And with the morning came
 
 IN THE LAGOON 167 
 
 a new surprise. With the flood-tide that poured through 
 the passage that gave access to the outer ocean, borne 
 like a gull upon the bosom of the vast mass of water that 
 swept through those coral portals, came a stranger vessel, 
 an English steam-yacht of considerable tonnage, flying the 
 ensign of the Royal Yacht Club, and the pennant of St. 
 George. A cloud of frightened birds flew up from the low 
 bushes on the beach which her swift-passing shadow 
 blackened. Ere long she rode securely through the channel 
 into the quiet haven of the lagoon. Urged by a sudden 
 impulse, Savaran threw himself into a tiny canoe-like craft, 
 employed by him as a means of communication with the 
 shore, and paddled out to meet her. 
 
 " Boat ahoy !" cried an English voice. There were heads 
 of men, and women, too, looking over the rail. 
 
 " Boat ahoy !" someone cried from the rigging. " Is 
 the anchorage good ?" 
 
 " As good as need be," shouted Savaran. " Stand in to 
 the northward a point or so, run her along opposite that 
 shelly bluff — twenty-five fathoms there, and good 
 bottom." 
 
 The yacht was manoeuvred as he directed. He held 
 aloof until her boatswain's whistle blew and her anchors 
 plunged into the lagoon. When she was securely berthed, 
 he drew near, and in response to an invitation climbed 
 her side and stood upon her decks. The trim neatness 
 of his surroundings, the yachtsnianlike smartness of the 
 men who greeted him, oppressed him with the consciousness 
 of his own unkempt condition. He knew himself clad in 
 semi-rags, stained by wear and weather ; he felt as haggard, 
 travail-worn, sun-baked as he looked. Self-consciousness 
 awakened in him, vigorous from its long sleep, and he was 
 ashamed. 
 
 " You are English," said the owner of the yacht. He 
 was a well-bred, middle-aged man, pale and spare, and
 
 168 IN THE LAGOON 
 
 dark, with small extremities and high thin features, and 
 carefully-trimmed, pointed beard. 
 
 " English," assented Savaran briefly, resenting the 
 curiosity in his interlocutor's eyes. 
 
 " Voyaging among these islands for pleasure, I pre- 
 sume 1" 
 
 " Not likely !" cried Savaran roughly. Then, noting 
 the other's surprise, he added hastily : " I beg your pardon; 
 but mine is simply a trading trip. You must have come 
 across dozens of craft like mine. These seas swarm with 
 pearling-luggers in the fishing season. I am my own 
 sailing-master and my own diver, and whatever else you 
 choose." 
 
 The owner of the yacht displayed his white teeth in a 
 condescending smile. 
 
 " When you came in with the flood," Savaran went on, 
 " I hoped it was the cutter from Thursday Island with 
 stores. She's a week overdue, and we are short cf rations." 
 
 " Anything with which it is in our power to supply 
 you " 
 
 " I will gladly buy what you can spare," said Savaran 
 stiffly. 
 
 " An odd kind of character," thought the owner of the 
 yacht, with a faint sarcastic twist of his thin lips. But 
 he said aloud : " Perhaps you will do us the pleasure of 
 joining us at breakfast ?" 
 
 " If there are ladies," began Savaran, " I shall cut rather 
 a Robinson-Crusoe-like figure in their eyes." 
 
 But the thin man who owned the yacht had disappeared 
 under the cabin hatchway. 
 
 " He has gone to prepare his wife for a nervous shock," 
 thought Savaran. He leaned against the rail, and his 
 glance swept idly up and down the decks. ' What is the 
 name of your yacht ?" he asked of a trimly clad deck- 
 hand who passed him.
 
 IN THE LAGOON 169 
 
 The man touched his cap in response to something in 
 the tone of the unkempt stranger, and answered : " The 
 Duchess of Malfi, sir." 
 
 Savaran had not been mistaken. He recognized the 
 vessel he had built and named five years before. There 
 was so little that was base or envious about the man that 
 the pang was over in a moment. But he started violently 
 a moment later, and the hot blood tingled to his very 
 finger-tips, as a girl's voice said in a long-drawn quavering 
 note of consternation : " Julius ! Mr. Savaran ! Oh, it 
 is really you !" 
 
 " Ellice !" 
 
 He knew the face — a younger, rather trivial reproduc- 
 tion of Nelia's. He sprang to her and seized her hands 
 with a broken cry of gladness. 
 
 " Little Ellice ! Of all strange chances that ever hap- 
 pened, this must be the strangest. To meet you in the 
 lagoon of an uninhabited island in the middle of Torres 
 Strait !" 
 
 His light eyes glowed strangely out of his brown face, 
 his features quivered, he ground his scarred and roughened 
 hands together against his breast. " Tell me," he almost 
 whispered, " is anyone — anyone else whom I used to know 
 — on board ?" 
 
 She shook her head and bit her lip. He paled under the 
 bronzing and sighed heavily. 
 
 " Are you married, then ? Is the man who owns the 
 yacht your husband ?" 
 
 " No," said Ellico. " A connection, Sir Charles Ansdell." 
 She was pale and nervous. She had missed her oppor- 
 tunity of breaking the ice through her cowardice of a 
 moment before, and regretted it desperately. " Julius," 
 she said, clutching the frayed sleeve of the cotton jumper, 
 " I want to explain — I ought to toll you " 
 
 But he did not hear.
 
 170 IN THE LAGOON 
 
 At that moment Sir Charles had issued from the cabin, 
 gallantly carrying a lady's sunshade, and accompanied by 
 its owner. She was a tall, slight young woman, dressed 
 in some dainty fabric of pinkish white, with a rose-coloured 
 ribbon about her dainty sailor hat, and a knotted scarf 
 of the same colour about her pretty waist. She had grey 
 eyes under well-marked eyebrows, and a quantity of 
 golden-brown hair, and a complexion as creamily pink as 
 the inside of a tropic shell. But she might have carried 
 the mask of a Medusa. For Sa varan, at the sight of her, 
 stiffened into the similitude of an image of stone — an 
 image of stone with a burning heart of fire. 
 
 " I am so sorry," whimpered Ellice at his side. His 
 hand closed upon her arm like a steel vice. He leaned to 
 the girl where they stood together on the quarter-deck. 
 
 " Tell the truth — if any woman can ! Is she — this man's 
 now ? Not mine ?" 
 
 ' The}' were married — three months ago — in London 
 Nelia wrote to your Sydney address to break it to you, 
 but I suppose you didn't get the letter ?" 
 
 " No, I did not get the letter." 
 
 Perhaps it had been forwarded to Thursday Island, and 
 was even now coming in the cutter with the supplies. 
 
 She mustered courage to touch his arm. 
 
 " Promise — oh ! promise you won't make a scene, or do 
 anything awful." 
 
 " I promise," said Savaran, with an effort. " See, she 
 is coming this way. Go and prepare her for the sight 
 of me." 
 
 The girl flew at his bidding, and he waited, leaning 
 against the rail until the dry, pompous voice of the owner 
 of the yacht said, not without a ring of mockery : 
 
 " Nelia, my love, let me present this gentleman, 
 Mr. ?" 
 
 " Savage !" said Savaran hoarsely.
 
 IN THE LAGOON 171 
 
 :< Mr. Savage, owner of the small vessel you see anchored 
 yonder. It is, in fact, a pearling-lugger, and Mr. Savage 
 is, he informs me, his own diver. An interesting but 
 risky profession, I should say." 
 
 " Not more risky than other professions," said Sa varan. 
 ' The man who is shaved every day by his valet imposes 
 quite as much responsibility on Providence as the man who 
 is content for the time being to obtain his necessary supply 
 of respiratory air through an india-rubber tube." He 
 looked at Lady Ansdell for the first time. " There may 
 be a strain of madness in the barber — there may be a 
 flaw in the tube." 
 
 She lowered her sunshade to hide her eyes, and wiped 
 away with a filmy cambric handkerchief the tiny points of 
 moisture that glistened on her white forehead and about 
 her lips. 
 
 " I should like," she said, with a miserable attempt to 
 be natural and interested, " to see you go down." 
 
 Savaran drew a quick, hard breath, and looked at her, 
 and his light eyes gleamed. 
 
 ' You shall see me go down," he said, and the promise 
 was grimly given. 
 
 ' When did it first occur to you to — ah — to try the 
 experiment ?" drawled Sir Charles. 
 
 ; ' I went down for the first time three years ago," said 
 Savaran, with grave civility ; " and I shall go down for the 
 last to-day." 
 
 ' Made your fortune, and mean to retire ?" hinted Sir 
 Charles. 
 
 ' I do not know that it would be called a fortune," said 
 Savaran ; " but I am going to retire." 
 
 He declined the pressing offer of breakfast, and paddled 
 back to the lugger, upon the understanding that the 
 yacht's boat would be pulled over to his anchorage by- 
 and-by for the purpose of enabling the baronet and the
 
 172 IN THE LAGOON 
 
 more curious of his party to witness the commencement of 
 diving-operations for the day. All this while Savaran 
 and the woman who had cast him off so lightly maintained 
 the aspect of strangers ; and Ellice, as his tiny craft shot 
 from the vessel's side, plumed herself upon the astuteness 
 that had prevented the dreaded " scene." 
 
 " You were so clever, dear." Nelia sighed, with a grate- 
 ful kiss. "There is nothing too good for such a kind, 
 sisterly little thing, not even the turquoise scarab with 
 the brilliants that you have always liked so much." And 
 the trinket was handed over. 
 
 " I must get Charles away," reflected Lady Ansdell as 
 she lingered before the mirror in her exquisitely decorated 
 cabin, putting the finishing touches to a toilette which 
 should enhance a thousand-fold the charms upon which 
 Savaran's heart had come to wreck. " Poor dear ! he 
 was so anxious to gratify my whim. I have always had 
 a craze for outlandish places. And this queer ring of 
 an island is quite romantic ; one might imagine two lovers 
 leading a Paul and Virginia existence under the trees on 
 these white beaches until they grew old — or got tired of 
 each other." 
 
 The smart white boat, with its striped awnings and gay 
 cushions, shot over the translucent opal waters of the 
 lagoon, scaring shoals of harlequin-coated fishes, darkening 
 the coral flower- parterres deep down below, with its flying 
 shadow. The half-caste from Port Kennedy and the 
 Manilla men gaped at the English ladies. In the bows of 
 the lugger stood a living pillar of steel, capped with flame. 
 
 " They make the dress of aluminium now instead of 
 india-rubber," babbled the wordy little Baronet, eager to 
 show off his knowledge of the subject before his bride. 
 " Lighter, and resists pressure better, though confoundedly 
 expensive. Look ! he's going down the ladder. No ; he's 
 beckoning. To you, I believe, my dear."
 
 IN THE LAGOON 173 
 
 Nelia rose from her seat in the galley's stern with a 
 disagreeably beating heart and dry lips. The great 
 copper helmet had turned to her ; the gauntleted hand 
 signalled her to approach. 
 
 " Confounded impudence — what !" said the Baronet ; 
 but Nelia did not hear. She had obeyed the mandate, 
 trembling. Through the great glass goggles of the diver's 
 helmet the sad eyes of her betrayed love looked into her 
 own. The water reached already to his middle as he stood 
 upon the ladder. A heavy knife was slung by a leathern 
 strap about his neck. As he stood supporting himself 
 with one hand upon the bulwarks of the lugger, he held 
 the other hand out to her ; and in it was a little bag of 
 chamois leather, attached to a fine steel chain. 
 
 She took it speechlessly. Then, without another sign, 
 but keeping his eyes upon her always, he went slowly 
 down into the depths. The pumps began to creak and 
 pant ; the half-breed Australian held the life-lines. Look- 
 ing down into the water, amidst eddies of violet and opal, 
 circles of greenish-white shot with inter-crossing streaks 
 of liquid white fire, they saw the copper helmet receding 
 and sinking and lessening ever, like a drowning sun. And 
 then it vanished, and a silence fell. 
 
 A silence, broken after some minutes duration by a cry 
 from the half-breed. The man's dusky, apeish features 
 were convulsed with terror ; he leaped and jabbered, 
 pointing to a flight of rising bubbles that chased each 
 other upwards, and broke and vanished over the spot 
 where the diver had disappeared. And the pumps began 
 to choke and snort. 
 
 It was plain, even to the pompous little Baronet, that 
 something was wrong. And the bubbles came up faster, 
 and the infection of the half-breed's excitement caught the 
 Manilla men. Something was horribly wrong, it was 
 plain. Yet there had been no signal-twitch upon the life-
 
 174 IN THE LAGOON 
 
 lines. At last the half-breed, knotting his long hair behind 
 his ears, dived from the lugger's side. Seconds passed — 
 seconds that seemed hours — and then the apeish face rose 
 up from the troubled waters, and the eyes rolled with 
 horror in their sockets, and the wide lips twisted back 
 from the gleaming teeth as the man held up something 
 in his dripping hand. It was the end of one of the india- 
 rubber air-tubes that supplied the man in the helmet with 
 the medium of life, and it had been severed with a sharp 
 blade by a determined hand. 
 
 There was nothing more to be done. The yacht sailed 
 away, and the pearling-lugger followed her before long, 
 and the birds of Torres Strait have now sole possession of 
 the atoll. But eighteen fathoms down, in the submarine 
 Eden where the coral flowers bloom, stands Death, cuirassed 
 and helmeted like any warrior of old ; keeping guard over 
 those regions whence the hand of the living once tore the 
 pearls that filled the little chamois bag — Sa varan's Legacy.
 
 XV 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 Every regiment has its butt-man ; many boast of beauty - 
 men ; others, again, are blatant in the possession of brainy 
 men, who have knocked out and patented inventions — 
 girthless saddles, self-detaching spurs, self-fixing horse- 
 shoes, or Staff sandwich-boxes, " which, when taken up by 
 the War Office, sir, will bring in a mint of money /" The 
 Dapple Greys owned a Wicked Man until the Admirable 
 
 Mrs. Crichton But of her anon. 
 
 The Wicked Man was of captains youngest, yet oldest 
 in knowledge of the world and ripest in experience of evil. 
 The Chief's weather-beaten, aquiline nose became more 
 hooked, it was thought, when the name of Thaddeus 
 Probyn Macallister was mentioned in his hearing. The 
 men of his squadron worshipped him with trembling. Even 
 his bull-dog, a sweet-natured but diabolical-looking animal, 
 came in for a share of the sinister popularity attaching to 
 his master. 
 
 What did Taddy do ? To begin with, anything that it 
 is possible for a gentleman to do, and still remain a gentle- 
 man. Everything that occurred to him as worth doing 
 he did with thoroughness. For all the more lurid joys of 
 life, including gambling, he had a pronounced goM, and at 
 twenty -six had conscientiously earned the reputation of 
 a reprobate. 
 
 When other men stood beneath the Tree of Knowledge 
 crunching the windfalls and looking in the grass for more, 
 
 175
 
 176 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 Taddy climbed up boldly and filled his pockets, and 
 chaffed the chaplain when he told him that he ought to 
 be ashamed of himself. He had small faith in man, and 
 in woman none at all, and usually made this plain to her 
 long before she had discovered, as she invariably did, that 
 he was not to be implicitly relied on. 
 
 It is a common thing with fictionists, when delineating 
 a character who, like Taddy, travels through life armed 
 with the conviction that all women are unvirtuous — I 
 refrain from quoting the poet's line, which every reader 
 will supply — it is a common thing for the story-writer to 
 leave in such an amatory cynic one soft spot, one unmil- 
 dewed grain of belief in the truth, goodness, and purity 
 of one particular piece of femininity. Sometimes the in- 
 stance is a little cousin or sister who died of consumption 
 at an early age ; sometimes the memory of his mother 
 sweetens some corner in a corrupted heart. Taddy's 
 sisters and cousins were all alive, grown up, fashionable 
 women of the world — its mud-stains were on the petticoats 
 of every one of them ; while as for his mother 
 
 You who read are either a very young or a very un- 
 fashionable person if you fail to be aware that the celebrated 
 leader of one of the fastest society sets in Paris, Madame la 
 Comtesse de Fallecourt, was, eighteen years ago, as the 
 Honourable Mrs. Macallister, heroine of one of the most 
 comprehensive divorce cases that ever raised the circula- 
 tion of a daily paper by some millions in the week. Taddy's 
 hatred of the mother who bore him was part of his rather 
 meagre heritage ; an heirloom handed down from father 
 to son. It was grim and great in its intensity. I think 
 that to have suggested to Taddy that his capacity for Don 
 Giovannism — if I may coin a word — was drawn from the 
 turbulently-flowing maternal source, instead of from the 
 cooler and more placid paternal stream, would have in- 

 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 177 
 
 volved grave consequences to the suggester, and gone a 
 long way towards transforming Taddy into what his Scotch 
 servant — a Free Kirk man and a rigid moralist — would have 
 called " a reputable liver and a vessel o' grace." But 
 Heredity was not, at the period I write of, the rallying 
 shout of theorists, and the idea did not occur to any man 
 — or, if it did, he possessed his soul in silence for reasons 
 mentioned above. 
 
 And so the young scapegrace went on his headlong way, 
 gravely remonstrated with at times by his Caledonian 
 Leporello, gathering roses wherever he might or might not, 
 and making heartless game of the lyrical reproaches of 
 Donna Anna and the other ladies in black ; who, you will 
 observe, couch their most crying, or rather shrieking, 
 grievance not in the fact of having been deluded, but in 
 the fact of having been deserted. But — and the more 
 properly-brought-up among my readers will be glad to 
 hear it — the Nemesis who was to avenge all these wrongs 
 wreaked upon the sex, who was to deal out prose retribution 
 as well as poetic justice until the measure of the offender 
 was full to overflowing, was by-and-by to come along — in 
 the person of a woman still unknown ! 
 
 Taddy was a sincere and consistent unbeliever, if I have 
 not mentioned it before. He was well read, though in a 
 desultory kind of way ; and had a characteristic method 
 of assailing venerable beliefs with astronomical, geo- 
 logical, and zoological facts of indisputable veracity. 
 Young Cornets, whose maternal relatives had made 
 them promise to hang coloured texts over their camp- 
 bedsteads and read good little bits out of good little books 
 every night before retiring to rest, filled up the Oxford 
 frames with racehorses or sirens of the ballet, gave the 
 texts to their terriers to worry, and threw the little books 
 into the waste-paper basket, after they had hearkened 
 awhile to Captain Thaddeus Macallister. Perhaps some 
 
 12
 
 178 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 others stuck manfully to their religious guns, in defiance 
 of Taddy and his imposing array of modern scientific 
 artillery ; and these, as likely as not, he would vote good 
 fellows. He was remarkable for never making a friend of a 
 man who did not contradict him, perhaps because he was a 
 man of contradictions himself. But few men could afford 
 friendship with Taddy for long. It was extremely pleasant, 
 but costly in the article of reputation as well as in the loss 
 of money, for Taddy was an inveterate gambler, and 
 invariably won. That was not his fault, of course, and he 
 was generous enough to have given back his money to a 
 man who could not afford to lose it ; that is, supposing the 
 man would have taken it, and provided he did not happen 
 to want it himself ; though he always did want it too 
 badly to test the resisting powers of that unlucky man. 
 The profession of Lovelace is, you will understand, an 
 expensive one, unless upon the stage, when the management 
 pays for clothes, and the jewels and other fine toys pre- 
 sented to Clarissa, like the compliments with which the 
 would-be seducer dazzles her, return to roost as regularly 
 as the curtain falls, and may be used over and over again. 
 But I fear the Admirable Mrs. Crichton has been kept 
 waiting an unconscionable time. 
 
 II 
 
 She came on the scene at a moment when the Dapple 
 Greys seemed on the point of losing their Wicked Man. 
 Taddy, dormant for a brief period, had broken out, had 
 flourished his heels, metaphorically speaking, in the face 
 of Virtue and Propriety — Virtue and Propriety upon this 
 occasion being represented by the Senior Major's wife. 
 So the Senior Major, as a dutiful husband was bound to 
 do, made representations and demanded explanations, and 
 the tocsin sounded and the fiery cross went from hand to 
 hand ; and the regimental ladies rose as one woman — hardly
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 179 
 
 a plain one, by-the-by ! — and the Chief closeted himself with 
 the Adjutant for a solemn pow-wow. 
 
 " It's not that I'm particularly in sympathy with the 
 feminine Rufford, you know, don't you know," said Sir 
 Alured, uneasily spinning on his office-chair and tugging 
 at his great iron-grey moustache. " And to take official 
 cognizance of a prudish woman's report is dee'd unpleasant 
 and offensive to me. But, as it happens, a breach of 
 regimental ethics is involved in the case, and I'm bound 
 to take some steps. Rufford demands it, egged on by that 
 — by his wife, who considers herself grossly insulted. It 
 seems she and Macallister encountered in Paris, three days 
 ago. She's been visiting an aunt, elderly and invalid, who 
 lives near Versailles — so Rufford tells me — and Macallister 
 — the deuce may care what took him there ! — the usual 
 business, I suppose. Anyhow, they met !" 
 
 Sir Alured paused, and twisted the great moustache 
 again savagely while the Adjutant listened with respectful 
 attention, and the sergeant-clerk, in the outer office, grew 
 purple in the effort to respire soundlessly, as he hung with 
 all his ears upon the utterances of the Chief as they filtered 
 through the keyhole of the Private Department. 
 
 " They met," the Colonel went on — " where, Mrs. Ruf- 
 ford doesn't exactly specify, and I don't know that it's 
 necessary to localize. We'll say at a restaurong, or on the 
 Boolvar. Macallister had a woman with him, it appears — 
 an unmistakably meretricious kind of person, y'know, don't 
 you know ? — and he came up, it seems, in that cool way he's 
 got — dee the fellow ! — and introduced his companion — to 
 his Senior Major's wife." 
 
 Sir Alured reached a colossal Partaga from a box on the 
 chimney-piece, and bit off the end savagely. " What 
 can you say for a man who does that sort of thing ?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 The Adjutant drew a sibilant breath between his teeth.
 
 180 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 Answer he had none. The thing was bad, very bad ; 
 ungentlemanly, blackguardly. He could not have be- 
 lieved, sceptical as he know Taddy to be on the subject of 
 women, that he would have been capable of such a thing. 
 It meant a serious scandal. Grave official rebuke ; a sen- 
 tence of ostracism pronounced by the regimental voice. 
 It signified, as the mildest consequence involved, exchange. 
 The Adjutant's freckled face grew long and dismal, and 
 under its scrubby penthouse of ginger hair his lip twitched 
 nervously. 
 
 " To return to Macallister," the Chief resumed, the 
 Partaga being lighted and in full blast. " The men of his 
 squadron like him, you've told me?" 
 
 " Follow him to hell, sir, I believe!" said the Adjutant, 
 who had pleaded Taddy's cause staunchly from the be- 
 ginning. 
 
 " He'll get there without their help," growled the Chief. 
 Then he said : " Don't like losing good officer, if he is a 
 bad character, you know, don't you know ? Needn't talk 
 of leaving the regiment. Ask him if he wouldn't like to go 
 out to Port Christmas for a year or so ? Kirby cables me 
 Parke must exchange. All boils, you know, don't you 
 know ?" 
 
 The Adjutant quitted Sir Alured, and looked in on Taddy 
 the same evening, meaning to drop that hint about South 
 Africa and the state of Parke's blood. Taddy, all un- 
 conscious of the tempest brewing, was lying full length on 
 his sofa, with his head where his feet ought properly to 
 have been, smoking very hard, and beating the devil's 
 tattoo with a pair of very prettily-worked slippers on the 
 back of it. He performed the rites of hospitality without 
 moving from his position, threw his cigarette-case at the 
 Adjutant's head, and, indicating with a flourish of one 
 slipper the cupboard whence drink perennially flowed for 
 the sustainment of himself and his visitors : 

 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 181 
 
 " Draw up that table," he commanded. " The cards are 
 in the thingumbob underneath. Now, what shall it be, 
 my merry, merry man — ecarte, casino, poker, dummy 
 whist ? Whist for choice, unless you'd prefer " 
 
 " I won't play to-night, thanks," the Adjutant said 
 soberly. " I'm not up to the mark. Something's " 
 
 " You should be more careful," Taddy advised, with 
 parental solicitude. " Between ourselves, you lead an 
 awful life : to bed with the busy bee and up with the lark. 
 The Early Bird is the most demoralizing companion a man 
 can have. I've often told you so. Besides " 
 
 " You're in good spirits to-night," the Adjutant said 
 wearily. 
 
 " I am in excellent fettle," Taddy owned. " I've had a 
 little change of air, for one thing. Paris — even in the 
 Dog-days — always agrees with me." 
 
 The Adjutant threw out a clumsy feeler. 
 
 " What took you to Paris — in the Dog-days ?" 
 
 " Rather a remarkable combination of motives," Taddy 
 replied, with an odd gleam in his queer topaz-coloured eyes 
 and a sardonic curl of his well-cut lips. " But the leading 
 incentive was a philanthropic desire to further the progress 
 of morality. A great many people call me an immoral 
 man. Now, if I were to tell them that I went to Paris to 
 teach a lesson in the domestic virtues, I dare say they 
 wouldn't believe me ! But what I say is true — upon my 
 word! The whole thing makes quite a neat little story. 
 I'll tell it you — in confidence, and suppressing names, and 
 so forth — if you like." 
 
 The Adjutant opened his eyes and ears. Knowing, as 
 he did, that so many other vices were fully developed in 
 Taddy's organization that the vice of untruthfulness had 
 been crowded out, ho waited with eagorness the coming 
 relation. 
 
 " A great many hundred miles from the patch of carpet
 
 182 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 where this sofa stands," said Taddy, " there lives a woman, 
 married — we'll say to a wealthy civilian, whose proper 
 title we'll submerge in that of the Member for Drillshire. 
 The Member for Drillshire is a fussy, good kind of idiot, and 
 more married to his wife than any other man I can call to 
 mind. She," said Taddy, slowly, " is a personage who, 
 in the memory of every one of her acquaintance, has always 
 occupied a pedestal. She is cited as an admirable wife 
 and a devoted mother. She takes the lead in charitable 
 and religious movements. The woman who is talked about, 
 justly or unjustly, ceases to be her friend ; the name of the 
 man who breathes a double entendre within earshot of this 
 Cornelia, Lucretia, and Penelope rolled into one, is blotted 
 from her visiting-list. I've often looked at her — she's 
 attractive in a heavily-moulded, sleepy-eyed kind of style 
 — noting the odd discrepancy between her mental and 
 physical constitutions, and wondering whether, deep 
 down in the nature of such a woman, buried under all that 
 cold, heavy, supercilious flesh, something dangerous, pas- 
 sionate, explosive, might not he dormant, waiting only the 
 nerve-jar, the electric spark that should " 
 
 " Send everything pop ! " suggested the Adjutant. 
 
 " Pop's the word. Well, I wondered until I grew tired, 
 and left off, and she went on henpecking her husband — 
 the Member for Drillshire, you know — and nursing her 
 children, and ordering her servants about, and laying down 
 the law to her friends on questions of propriety, and gener- 
 ally proving herself a very well-ordered and admirably- 
 principled specimen of British matronhood. Did I mention 
 that one of her chief claims to good taste and exclusiveness 
 lay in her dislike of your humble servant ?" 
 
 " No," the Adjutant said, conscientiously ; " but I can 
 
 imagine " 
 
 ' That such a woman would naturally shrink from such 
 a personification of impropriety as myself ?" The Wicked
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 183 
 
 Man of the regiment laughed, and his laugh was not alto- 
 gether pleasant to hear. " Granted that, we'll skip to the 
 Third Volume. One night, just a week ago, a letter was 
 delivered at my quarters here in rather a mysterious way. 
 There were a lot of others waiting to be read." Taddy 
 jerked his head in the direction of the chimney-glass, which 
 boasted its usual complement of monogramed envelopes. 
 " Something in the handwriting struck me, and I opened 
 it first of all. It was from the wife of the Member for 
 Drillshire." 
 
 Taddy paused. 
 
 " Asking you to tea ?" 
 
 " Asking me to meet her at an hotel in Paris three days 
 from date." 
 
 " You're joking ?" 
 
 ' I'm serious. Oh ! I wasn't wrong in that guess about 
 the dynamite. A declaration couched in unmistakable 
 terms from a woman with whom I had hardly ever ex- 
 changed more than six words at a time. A woman who 
 had always kept me at arm's-length ; not that I'd ever 
 entertained the wish to come nearer. . . . Those heavy 
 women aren't my style," Taddy explained, candidly, " and 
 I'd never given Cornelia-Lucretia-Penelope a second 
 thought. Well, what have you to say ?" 
 
 " I say," pronounced the Adjutant, " that the whole 
 thing's pretty stiff. What did you do ?" 
 
 " What I did," returned the Wicked Man, slowly, " wasn't 
 delicate or refined, but it was effective — thoroughly effec- 
 tive. She said — in the letter — she'd lost her head, and 
 proved that she hadn't quite by asking me to burn the 
 precious missive when I'd read it. Well, I made up my 
 mind I'd bring her to her senses. I sent back a line saying 
 I'd meet her — she'd laid down all her lines " — he drooped 
 his dark eyelids and sneered — " in the letter she sent me, 
 which, by the way, I didn't burn — quite like an old cam-
 
 184 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 paigner. I suppose French novels help Englishwomen 
 out in emergencies of the amatory kind. . . . And I crossed 
 to Calais, and caught the Paris train some twenty-four 
 hours earlier than the appointed time, and looked up 
 Madame Felice — I wanted her help in the lesson I was going 
 to teach, you see. . . ." 
 
 " Who is Madame Felice ?" asked the Adjutant, with 
 some gruff ness. He got up and went to the hearth, and 
 kicked a smouldering billet into sparks with unnecessary 
 ferocity. " Who is Madame F61ice ?" he asked again. 
 
 " She is, or was, aunt to a little woman I used to know — 
 a chorus-girl at the Bouffes Varietes. I gave no explana- 
 tions, and she asked none. All she wanted was money — 
 and she got that. Well, when the appointed time came 
 I drove to the hotel, asked for her — the Wife of the Member 
 for Drillshire — by the name she'd given me. The waiter 
 threw open the double doors ; the Wife of the Member for 
 Drillshire rose to meet me, with some display of agitation. 
 Then she caught the flare of Madame's carroty wig and 
 pink feathers — she has a meteoric taste in bonnets — behind 
 me. . . ." 
 
 " Well ?" The Adjutant's voice was stern. 
 
 " She drew herself up, and dealt me one look, double- 
 edged, and poisoned at that. ' What do you ? How 
 
 dare you ? Why is this woman V All three inter- 
 rogations, one after the other, bitten off short between 
 teeth that I verily believe would quite as readily have 
 bitten me. Then I made my explanation. ' You will 
 pardon me,' I said in English, because I did not want old 
 Felice to understand me, ' but as you omitted to mention 
 in your letter that the interview for which you asked was 
 to take place in the presence of a third person, I have 
 taken the liberty of bringing this lady as my chaperon, 
 not being a married man !' " 
 
 " What followed ?"
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 185 
 
 " Oh ! — asterisks. I'd pitched it a little strong, I don't 
 deny ; but it was the first time in my life I'd taken the 
 level of high morality, you see." 
 
 The Adjutant said, in a tone that rang like bell-metal : 
 
 " And immediately after disporting yourself on the — 
 how do you put it ? — the level of high morality, you met 
 and insulted Mrs. Ruff or d ?" 
 
 Taddy leapt to his feet in an instant. 
 
 "Mrs.Rufford? Confound you, man! I named no names." 
 
 Upon this a silence fell upon the room so profound that 
 the ticking of the clock and the falling of the cinders upon 
 the hearth sounded unnecessarily aggressive. It was 
 broken by the Adjutant moving to the door. With his 
 hand upon the look, he turned and spoke. With the shock 
 of the revelation of a moment before, his ugly face was 
 white under the freckles ; and a fire of anger and contempt 
 burned under the scanty covert of his reddish-white eye- 
 lashes, of which it was not good to be the object. 
 
 ' The unhappy creature of whose mad infatuation and 
 pitiable weakness you — who never yielded to an infatua- 
 tion or owned a weakness ! — have taken such cowardly 
 advantage has, it is as well you should know, represented 
 to her husband, Major Rufford — the Member for Drill- 
 shire " — the accent on the words stung like a cut from a 
 horsewhip — " that you met her in Paris, accidentally, and, 
 being in company with some person of the type of the 
 niece of Madame Felice, insulted her by presenting the 
 woman to her notice. This He she has probably concocted, 
 partly out of the necessity of accounting to her husband 
 for her agitation, partly impelled by the desire for revenge. 
 I have no doubt she is under the impression that you have 
 burned her letter. Favour me by destroying it now, in 
 my presence, before I leave your room !" 
 
 Under the influence of a righteous indignation the most 
 insignificant of aien may swell to proportions almost
 
 186 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 formidable. Taddy, who could have broken the little 
 Adjutant like a dried stick between his hands, felt him to 
 be at this psychological moment the stronger man of the 
 two. Besides, in his peculiar way, he liked and respected 
 the Adjutant. If he could have retained his good opinion 
 without any personal trouble or self-sacrifice, he would 
 have preferred to do so. Without speaking, then, he 
 wrenched down the sliding shutter-top of his secretaire, 
 took a letter from a drawer that opened with a spring, and, 
 holding it out at arm's length so that the Adjutant might 
 verify the signature, crumpled it into a ball and tossed it 
 into the glowing fire. When it was consumed and done 
 with, he said : 
 
 " I did that for your sake, you know ; not for hers. 
 Though, on my honour, Collins, I never meant to use it. 
 Let her invent and stick to whatever story she devises ; 
 I'll stand the racket. And now " 
 
 He held out his hand, but the Adjutant made no re- 
 sponsive movement. 
 
 L ' I can't take it, Macallister," he said. 
 
 " Why should we quarrel about a worthless woman ?" 
 said Taddy, with a shrug. 
 
 " By the living Tinker ! I don't know," the Adjutant 
 broke forth. "I've always liked you ; I've always hated 
 Rufford's wife ; and yet — to trample, as you did, on that 
 poor devil, instead of putting her pitiful confession in the 
 
 fire and forgetting all about it No, sir, the thing's 
 
 too raw. And — I came to your quarters to-night as a 
 friend, but it's best you should know that I've crossed your 
 threshold for the last time — in that capacity." 
 
 " As you please," said Taddy, rigid now. " Have you 
 anything more to say before you go ?" 
 
 " Only this," said the little Adjutant ; " I hope — I hope 
 to Heaven ! — though you don't believe in there being any 
 Commander-in-Chief at Headquarters Above — that some
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 187 
 
 day, not very long to wait for, a woman will make you pay, 
 chalk by chalk, the score that her whole sex have got 
 
 down against you ! I hope " 
 
 ' You're letting an infernal draught in," said Taddy. 
 
 The Adjutant banged the door behind him, and went 
 clinking and jingling down the passage. He was ex- 
 hausted with his late upbraidings, and stood a moment on 
 the doorstep, breathing hard, and looking blindly out into 
 the barrack-square. It was a gusty, moonless night, and 
 the flickering yellow gas-lamps were almost swallowed up 
 in surging billows of wind-tossed shadow. In the lee of 
 the block of buildings the blackness was almost solid. 
 
 The Adjutant bit firmly on the chin-strap of his regula- 
 tion cap, and strode forth to do battle with the elements. 
 The wild wind charged down upon him, and blew a woman 
 into his arms. He was entangled in her draperies — gagged 
 by % long lace scarf, which wound itself about his head 
 and face like something in the seaweed-line. But he felt 
 her clutch his arm, and heard her — in spite of his envelop- 
 ment — gasp out : 
 
 " Captain Macallister ! I must speak to you." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," the Adjutant said in muffled tones, 
 unwinding himself as best he could, while the storm 
 .shrieked round the pair of them, and the whips of the rain 
 lashed and stung. But the wild woman clung to him and 
 went on. A sudden surge of fear had risen and swamped 
 her triumph in the reprisal that she had set brewing. It 
 had occurred to her that the man in whose hands she had 
 placed the threads of her destiny, and the scissors where- 
 with to cut them if he liked, might not have burned the 
 letter, after all. And her terror had been to her as a 
 scourge, lashing her forth into the darkness. 
 
 ' Don't betray me !" she cried. " I was mad. It was 
 you who made me so. Have some mercy on a woman 
 who "
 
 188 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 Then, as some vagrant ray of light, wrenched from one 
 of the distracted gas-lamps by a fresh gust, fell upon the 
 Adjutant's face, she shrieked out wildly, and would have 
 fled; but the little mancaught the frantic creature bythearm. 
 
 " Mrs. Rufford ! Mrs. Rufford !" he shouted above the 
 howling of the wind ; " you're safe. Do you understand ? 
 I saw your letter burned — I swear it !" 
 
 " Oh !" she cried, as if he had stabbed her. " You 
 know— -you know ! Does all the world know ? Oh, my 
 children ! I'll kill myself ! I'll " 
 
 She strove with him, shrieking as if she had been the 
 very incarnation of the warring elements ; while the 
 Adjutant kept repeating over and over that nobody knew, 
 besides Macallister, save himself, and she might rely upon 
 their secrecy. Presently the seven devils went out of her, 
 leaving her more feeble than her own youngest-born, and 
 she was able to listen, and moan out a grateful word or two, 
 and finally crawl homewards, clinging to the good little 
 Adjutant's arm. Before they parted he had heard her 
 promise to forget, to go and sleep — rise upon the morrow 
 with no change in her ; and, above all, to stick to her 
 invented story like a true daughter of Eve. 
 
 But on the morrow Mrs. Rufford did not rise ; she had 
 taken measures — out of the Major's medicine-chest — cal- 
 culated to keep her tempestuous heart and her unruly 
 senses quiet until the Judgment Day. And, with that most 
 painful candour which comes of knowing that comments 
 upon your conduct will never reach your living ears, she 
 had left a letter exonerating Captain Thaddeus Macallister 
 from the charge she had brought against him. And the 
 whole thing was hushed up ; but Captain Thaddeus 
 Macallister, nevertheless, exchanged command of squadron 
 with Parke — Parke of the boils — and went out in charge 
 of a seasick foreign service draft of Dapple Greys to Port 
 Christmas.
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 189 
 
 III 
 
 About the same time the Admirable Mrs. Crichton's 
 medical advisers recommended South Africa for her health, 
 which was understood to be fragile. Crichton, too, having 
 exhausted other sources of amusement, united with two 
 or three other men of his type — large, loud, florid, slangy, 
 well-groomed, and well-to-do — to organize a rhinoceros- 
 shooting expedition into Bechuanaland. Thither, then, 
 they betook themselves, per medium of Sir Donald Currie. 
 
 ' You'll take care of yourself, dear, I know," said the 
 Admirable Mrs. Crichton, brushing with a pretty, conjugal 
 air some specks of reddish dust from the collar of Crichton's 
 velveteen shooting-coat. " I know you'll take care of your- 
 self, and so I shall not be anxious. Fretting is so bad for 
 people with delicate lungs !" 
 
 And she went to the station to see him off for Kimberley, 
 whence he and his party were to take waggon for the shores 
 of Lake Ngami. At the last moment Crichton had a 
 spasm of devotion. 
 
 ' You're sure you won't be lonely ? Wouldn't like me 
 to stop behind and take care of you, little woman ?" he 
 said, with a sentimental expression on his large pink face 
 which caused the other men to grin covertly. 
 
 " Oh no !" Mrs. Crichton said rather hurriedly. Then 
 a little quiver came about her delicate lips, and she lifted 
 her eyes, the brilliancy of which was increased by the 
 bluish shadows about them. " I shall be quite safe," she 
 said ; " and you, dear, will be guarded from anything un- 
 toward. . . ." And she lifted those deep violet orbs to 
 the dome of her pink sunshade with such unaffected grace 
 and simple piety that not one of the three men who made 
 up Crichton's party failed to experience a slight dimness of 
 the vision and huskiness in the throat. Crichton alone 
 remained unmoved, perhaps from innate stolidity, perhaps
 
 190 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 from that familiarity which renders the stage-carpenter 
 impervious to the most thrilling dramatic effects, and 
 which comes of being behind the scenes. 
 
 " By George ! your wife's a pearl, Crikey !" said one of 
 the men, as the locomotive rattled on its way. 
 
 " She's awf'lly religious, and all like that," said the hus- 
 band rather glumly, " in spite of her being a regular woman 
 of the world. And she wants some tusks, and skulls, and 
 skins, and things for the hall at home," he added, letting 
 the drop of bitterness that brimmed his cup run over. 
 
 Meanwhile the Admirable Mrs. Crichton was making 
 herself as comfortable as circumstances permitted. Cir- 
 cumstances are singularly malleable and elastic in the case 
 of people who have plenty of ready money. 
 
 It was early in the season. In spite of those delicate 
 lungs, the tropical climate of the coast agreed with her, 
 and until it became necessary to move to the higher 
 districts, or until Crichton should return, or until the whim 
 should seize her to return to England, the Admirable Mrs. 
 Crichton decided to remain at Port Christmas. The 
 hospitality of Government House was hers to command ; 
 the Legislative Council and the Military force vied with 
 each other in homage to the recently imported fair. The 
 scenery was new to her. The mixed population — 
 European, Dutch, Asiatic, and Zulu-Kaffir — pleased her 
 with a sense of harmonious incongruity, like an artistic 
 piece of patchwork. So she pitched her tent in the blue 
 shadow of the Drakensberg Mountains. 
 
 Personal descriptions are ticklish things. The Ad- 
 mirable Mrs. Crichton was among the number of women 
 who invite description while they defy it. She was above 
 middle height ; her perfectly rounded shape, her hands 
 and feet, beyond commendation. She had an exquisite 
 blush-rose-tinted skin, with bluish shadows — the kind of 
 skin that goes with some shades of red hair. Her hair,
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 191 
 
 however, was not red, but of pale silvery gold, a hue so 
 well chosen, and matching so discreetly with her deep 
 violet eyes, that nobody could blame the fashion. She 
 wore it in tangled masses above her straight fine eyebrows, 
 which, like her lashes, were of tawny-brown. Her profile 
 was fine, too, sensitive and delicate. The nose tilted a 
 little to one side, a peculiarity of which its owner was 
 conscious, and concealed by tilting her charming head at 
 the same angle. Her mouth and chin, inimitably modelled, 
 were perhaps the prettiest features she owned. She 
 possessed a powerful intellect in combination with an 
 hysterical temperament — the temperament which is called 
 " artistic," and goes to make the poet, the musician, or 
 the mime. Any one of these things she might have been — 
 notably the last ; she was an aggregation of all the talents. 
 Also she rode well, drove, fenced, and swam ; angled, shot, 
 and played tennis creditably ; hence her society nickname 
 of the Admirable Mrs. Crichton. 
 
 Such a woman, it will be easily conceded, might be all 
 things to all men — would be one thing to all women, unless 
 for some abstruse or apparent reason she found it necessary 
 to cultivate their friendship. 
 
 But this necessity seldom occurred. There are few 
 crises in life in which a man cannot be useful, and the 
 Admirable Mrs. Crichton had only to lift her little finger 
 to command the services of a dozen cavalieri-serventi at 
 need. Wherever she went a guard of honour sprang up 
 about her — picked men, young and straight, well-looking, 
 and generally well-to-do, though she preferred beauty to 
 a banking account, it must be owned. A strain of sen- 
 suousness, perhaps, was latent in her nature, co-existent 
 with a strong religious tendency, for she came of one of the 
 oldest Catholic families. . . . And among all the passions 
 of the woman's complex nature, the cold passion of prose- 
 lytism reigned supreme. Throughout the tangled web of
 
 192 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 follies, desires, hankerings, predilections that made up her 
 life one motive ran. To be of the world, worldly, and yet 
 among saints, saintly, was the cherished ambition of her 
 heart. 
 
 IV 
 
 The Governor's wife found Mrs. Crichton charming. 1 
 have said that when it was necessary to enlist the suffrages 
 of her own sex she could do so at will. The Governor was 
 admittedly Spris. He and the other men who rallied round 
 her standard wondered solemnly how Crichton could find 
 it in his heart to leave so lovely a woman — " and with 
 delicate lungs, too, begad !" — unprotected ; while they 
 were frankly obliged to him for having done so. 
 
 Balls, dinners, polo-parties, pionics, improvised sports 
 and races, were organized in honour of the Admirable Mrs. 
 Crichton. She had brought out a good many of her 
 diamonds and a quantity of astonishing gowns — daring 
 combinations of colour, in which any other woman would 
 have felt conscious and looked conspicuous. One especial 
 hat, pink straw, turned up behind cockle-fashion, and 
 trimmed with a whole rose-bush, bearing blue blossoms 
 of colossal size, drove every she in the Colony to the verge 
 of desperation ; nor was its wearer too perfect in meekness 
 to rejoice at the effect created. Wherever she went she 
 was the centre of a vortex, in the seething waters of which 
 wailing maidens and indignant matrons were doomed to 
 see the bodies of sweethearts and husbands disappear, to 
 bob up again serenely at some future time, little the worse 
 in outward aspect for the experience ; or to be cast up, 
 swollen and battered and unreoognizable, at the feet of some 
 wan-eyed watcher on the shore. 
 
 " Who," said the Admirable Mrs. Crichton to the 
 Governor's wife on the ocoasion of a grand polo-match
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 193 
 
 on the Victoria Ground — " who is the man who plays so 
 splendidly ? The man on the sorrel pony with black 
 points ?" 
 
 The Governor's wife looked in the direction indicated 
 by a scarcely perceptible lift of Mrs. Crichton's pretty chin, 
 and instantly became rigid, like a venerable and experi- 
 enced pointer who scents game. 
 
 " That," she said, " is Captain Macallister." 
 
 " He is like an Etruscan bronze — rather," said Mrs. 
 Crichton. 
 
 Taddy's club had shivered into splinters a moment 
 previously, and he had cantered up to the barricade to 
 take a fresh weapon from the hands of the groom who held 
 his spare pony. He was looking his best — irreproachable 
 in white cords and tan leggings — and he may or may not 
 have overheard the comment. At any rate, before he 
 dashed away again into the thickest of the melee he turned 
 in his saddle and sent a look, almost insolent in its undis- 
 guised admiration, in the direction of the lady whom the 
 Colony united to honour. 
 
 Mrs. Crichton looked away — her profile, we are aware, was 
 without fault. A moment later she murmured languidly : 
 
 " Tell me something about this Captain — what name 
 did you ? Ah ! Macallister." 
 
 " He belongs," said the Governor's wife, with a sup- 
 pressed snort, " to a good Scotch family ; and he is, I have 
 reason to believe, a disgrace to it !" 
 
 " My dear lady !" murmured Mrs. Crichton, lifting her 
 delicate eyebrows under the shadow of the blue roses ; 
 " what has he done ?" 
 
 " Everything, the Governor gives me to understand." 
 
 " Everything ! Vague, but comprehensive," com- 
 mented the Admirable Mrs. Crichton. 
 
 The Governor's wife leaned to her guest's ear, and gave 
 a brief but vitriolic resume of Taddy's offences. 
 
 13
 
 194 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 Mrs. Crichton listened, her violet eyes roving over the 
 polo-ground in quest of the sorrel pony. The man who 
 rode it — the man whose profile reminded her of an Etruscan 
 bronze — was undoubtedly a bad subject, undeniably an 
 interesting one. 
 
 The Dapple Greys gave a ball that night. Captain 
 Thaddeus Macallister was presented to the Admirable Mrs. 
 Crichton. She danced well, as she did all other things ; 
 and Taddy had learned to valse in Germany. They swam, 
 they skated, they flew. The pale, pure profile with the 
 sensitive curves and the Etruscan bronze features came very 
 close together. 
 
 ' He's made up his mind it's going to be plain sailing, 
 confound him !" said one of his brethren of the sabretasche. 
 ' He'll be mistaken for once in his life !" said a member 
 of the Legislative Council. 
 
 But at this there was an outburst of incredulity. 
 From thenceforward Mrs. Crichton possessed a shadow — 
 a shadow with a bronze Etruscan profile. Society in the 
 Colony stood with its finger on its lip waiting for the 
 ripening of a scandal. But the scandal never came to 
 maturity. Taddy the Irresistible found himself resisted ; 
 had to own his unsuccess ; had to submit to being kept at 
 arm's length by a woman who frankly owned that she was 
 not indifferent to him. And, finally, being meshed in the 
 net of his own outrageous vanity, convinced that the virtue 
 that could confess so much and deny so much must be 
 superhuman — nay, divine — he fell prostrate in homage 
 before the Good '•'Woman, whose existence he had pro- 
 foundly disbelieved in until that moment. The flood- 
 gates of the man's heart were broken down by the potent 
 touch of Love, and a torrent of devotion, faith, reverence, 
 trust — all that in which his nature had seemed most 
 lacking — poured forth at the feet of the Admirable Mrs. 
 Crichton. Passion, as he had known it, had nothing in
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 195 
 
 common with this glow and thrill and tremor of un- 
 utterable rapture that the sound of her voice, the echo of 
 her footsteps, a glimpse of her distant figure, awoke in him. 
 The glove that she had worn, the cushion that her head 
 aad rested on, were sacred to him — to him who had made 
 a jest of all sacred things. Her name spoken by other men 
 made him shudder. He knew himself of all men most 
 unworthy to take it upon his lips ; and yet it was so un- 
 utterably dear ! Heaven have mercy on the man or 
 woman who shall love another human creature with such 
 utter, unquestioning, absolute devotion, I say ! for a day 
 shall come when the beloved will have none. 
 
 She occupied a villa, the property of a colonial absentee, 
 amidst orange-groves and orchards, a few miles from the 
 town. An elderly relative of the owner was let with the 
 house as housekeeper or companion, or as both together, to 
 the Admirable Mrs. Crichton. And she and Taddy rode and 
 drove, walked and talked together, or meditated without 
 speaking in the brief border of twilight that in South 
 Africa divides day from dusk. She let him hold her hand. 
 Once he even dared to kiss her cheek. She spoke to him 
 upon the subject of his soul ; and one night she asked him 
 for it, and got it for the asking. She gave him in ex- 
 change a good little book, which he solemnly vowed to 
 read, and a letter to her director, to be personally delivered. 
 
 One may conjecture that Taddy's sensations were not 
 enviable as he rode out next morning to the Church of the 
 Holy Contemplation, and pulled at the sacristj^-bell with 
 his bridle on his arm. The middle-aged, kindly-faced 
 priest to whom the letter was addressed was a man of 
 experience, grown grey in the knowledge of the world. 
 But ho had never had a stranger catechumon than this 
 young military dandy in grey tweeds and Bedford cords, who 
 flogged his spurred boot with his hunting-crop, and swore 
 under his breath when he mixed up the Seven Necessary
 
 196 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 Virtues with the Mortal Sins. He shook his wise old head, 
 but he did not show him the door ; the Church may not 
 close her portals in the face of one who seeks admission. 
 And when, a certain amount of intimacy having been 
 established between himself and his visitor, he asked plump 
 and plain for Taddy's reasons, Taddy gave them bluntly 
 enough. 
 
 " It's this way," he said, looking straight at the Father 
 from under the bar of his black brows, and digging one 
 hand deep into his breeches-pocket. "I've been a rackety 
 cus — character all my life up to now. I've held every 
 man cheap, except myself, and every woman cheaper, 
 without any exception at all. And, though a good many 
 women have cared for me, poor dev — poor things ! — I 
 swear I've never met a woman, out of a church-picture, 
 who had the look in her eyes that makes a man feel humble 
 and ashamed, and as if he ought to go down upon his knees 
 and tell her all the worst he knows of himself — but for fear 
 of making her hate him — until now ! She wrote that letter 
 — you've got it in your hand — and she's " 
 
 The priest said, with a subtle intonation : " She is a 
 married woman !" 
 
 " I know that," Taddy said, with a dark flush, gripping 
 his riding-crop in both hands and bending it across his 
 knee. " But you haven't got the hang of things if you 
 
 think — if you suppose ! She's an angel to me — not an 
 
 earthly woman. I'm low down, wading among the rotten 
 water in the bogs, and she's high up, standing on the 
 mountain-top, with the wild yellow violets about her feet, 
 and the clouds for her veil. And I want to be made fit 
 to worship her. I want to earn the right to take her hand 
 and look her in the eyes. I want to believe what she be- 
 lieves, and go where she goes — when I die. And if your 
 Church — her Church — will take me " — he snapped the 
 Malacca cane of the crop in two and tossed the pieces from
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 197 
 
 him, and stood up, his nostrils quivering, his broad chest 
 heaving, his hands clenched, and a swollen V-shaped vein 
 starting between his sombre brows — " make me what she 
 would have me be, here I am !" 
 
 The good Father had certainly never had a more unique 
 penitent. But he was a pure-hearted and gentle-natured 
 man. And, he argued, this trembling birth of reverence 
 for Womanhood in its late contemner, this birth of the 
 Ideal, crowned with the daystar and throned upon the 
 mountains in a brain and heart barren until now of noble 
 thought or high aspiration, had in it something of the 
 miraculous. 
 
 The Dapple Greys recovered from the shock received 
 when Taddy first marshalled the Catholic contingent of 
 that gallant regiment to Mass, sooner than might have 
 been expected. People get used to things so quickly. 
 
 People tire of things so quickly, too. If the truth must 
 be told, the Admirable Mrs. Crichton did not find Taddy 
 regenerate, Taddy clothed and in his right mind, half so 
 interesting or such good company as Taddy the Wicked 
 Man. And she had met Lord Donald Courtroyd, and Lord 
 Donald took up a great deal of her time, though of this 
 Taddy was not aware. An Excuser's Handbook ; or. Easy 
 Instructor in the Indispensable Art of Putting Off, might 
 have been compiled from the letters which Taddy received 
 at this period, and sheaved and cherished. 
 
 Everybody knows Lord Donald Courtroyd, the big, 
 bearded, exuberant man who was once a Queen's Courier, 
 and has butchered more big game — on paper — than any- 
 body since Oswell died. He is younger brother to a duke, 
 and his books are full of bouncing fibs, inaccurate scientific 
 information, and bad grammar. His entertainment, 
 "Horns, Hides, and Hoofs : by the Man who Won Them,"
 
 198 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 drew all fashionable London last season for one afternoon. 
 He has seen much of African savage life, and, it is whispered, 
 taken kindly to its customs. Here was indeed a brand to 
 be plucked from the burning. In her eagerness to per- 
 form this work of charity, the Admirable Mrs. Crichton 
 leaned a little too closely over the furnace, and got those 
 seraphic wings of hers rather badly scorched. No power, 
 human or divine, might have convinced Taddy that such 
 a casualty was possible, had he not seen, and heard, and 
 smelt singed feathers for himself. 
 
 He had been debarred the rapture of the sight and sound 
 of her for four whole days. She had " a touch of fever," 
 and wished to be alone. If the fever had fallen to Ms 
 share, he would have been honestly thankful. He had 
 once gone with her to visit an English servant of hers who 
 had broken his leg. He remembered how she had gone 
 into the stuffy sick-room, rustling like a pleasant breeze, 
 and taken her gloves off with a business-like air — and put 
 them on again and rustled out. Perhaps she would have 
 come to him if he had been ill. He was dear to her — she 
 had confessed as much. If she were not already married 
 — oh, gall and honey mingled ! — she would have given 
 herself to him. He knew himself unworthy to mate with 
 such an angel, but there were others even less worthy — 
 men like Lord Donald Courtroyd, for example, of whose 
 life and habits he thoroughly disapproved. He was be- 
 yond all sense of humour ; and if anybody had pointed out 
 that the notion of his — of Taddy's — disapproving of any 
 man's morals was funny in the extreme, he would have failed 
 to see it. 
 
 The first of the four days of exile was drawing to its 
 close. The inland mail-bag came in as Taddy lounged, 
 cigar in mouth, into the Mess smoking-room, threw him- 
 self into a big cane chair, and called for a lemon squash ; 
 he had knocked off pegs, and only drank whisky at meals,
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 199 
 
 " for the stomach's sake," and then sparingly. There was 
 a letter for him with the Kimberley postmark ; a man he 
 knew, who held some minor official position at the Diamond 
 Mines, had written to him out of pure idleness. But one 
 paragraph upon the scrawled sheet made his heart stop 
 beating for an instant, and then commence a frantic tattoo 
 against his ribs. 
 
 " Four English swells, men who went up-country to slioot 
 rhino in the Ngami Valley four months ago — perhaps you 
 knew them ? — got back yesterday. That is, three of them, and 
 wliat is left of the fourth sewn up in tilt-canvas. His name 
 was Crichton, and a keitloa ripped him up, they say, and 
 they're bringing the body Jwme to his missus, who is waiting 
 for him at Port Christmas. They're all dismally drunk at 
 the moment of writing, and dealing for the ace of spades 
 with the object of settling which of them is to break the news 
 to the widow. I hear she's stunning " 
 
 Taddy got up out of his chair all in one piece, like a 
 man moved by clockwork, and made two strides to the door. 
 An orderly was waiting on the stoep, and he said to the 
 man : 
 
 " Tell Haygarth to put Lorna Doone in the bamboo-cart 
 at once ;" and when the mare came round, kicking, and 
 trying to smash the trap against every obstacle she en- 
 countered, from a sentry to a gatepost, he sprang up and 
 took the reins, and man and brute and cart were gone 
 in a cloud of reddish dust. 
 
 " Something up !" said somebody. " Drove off without 
 an overcoat ! No joke to be underclad in one of these 
 soaking tropical dews ! He'll be as mad as a bumble 
 to-morrow with what my sergeant calls ' pennymonia.' 
 
 " Couldn't be madder than ho is now !" somebody else 
 rejoined, and the subject dropped. Meanwhile Lorna Doone 
 had done with the level, and was galloping wildly up the 
 long bad gully-road that led to the plateau where the villa
 
 200 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 stood, bumping the bamboo cart into muddy holes and 
 over lumps of sandstone, while trailing vines and thorny- 
 creepers lashed her driver in the face. With a final 
 struggle she was at the top, and stretching at utmost 
 speed over a broad and sandy track that ran between 
 maize- fields, shorn now of their ripened tassels. The 
 drying stalks clashed and rattled as the wind swept down 
 from the mountains. If their language could have been 
 translated, and that of a stray hyaena which laughed 
 dismally from close by, as Taddy got down to open the 
 gate that led into the orange-grove, it would have meant : 
 
 " Go back ! Go back ! Not to-night ! Not to-night ! 
 If you, being a Man, would wish to go on hugging an 
 Illusion.'" 
 
 As it was, Taddy was sensible of a chill. Instead of 
 driving up the avenue, he turned off by a side-way, and 
 took Lorna Doone to the stables. The Hottentot groom 
 to whom he delivered her pointed with a chuckle to another 
 two-wheeled trap that was tilted down under a shed in 
 the yard. But the late visitor did not perceive his mean- 
 ing. He turned and went soberly back to the house, 
 pondering within himself in what fashion he should break 
 the sad news — the glorious news ! He had got to condole 
 with the woman he most ardently desired to marry, on 
 the premature death of her husband. Not an easy task, 
 you must admit, of which to acquit oneself with honour 
 and discretion. 
 
 The dew fell chill. He was drenched to the skin 
 through his thin evening clothes, in spite of the flannels 
 every colonial wears. The wind in the branches of the 
 great locusts and the peach and orange trees soughed 
 drearily as he stole noiselessly over the short, crisp 
 lawn to the verandah. There, with its grass-blinds par- 
 tially drawn and a light showing behind them, was the 
 window where he had sat and stood, sometimes knelt,
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 201 
 
 beside her as she looked out upon the fading of the sunset — 
 the blossoming of the stars. He had often come in this 
 way, knocking on the window. Once he had looked in 
 and seen her kneeling at a prie-Dieu with her open Missal 
 before her. " / saw you praying," he had whispered 
 afterwards. " Was it for me ?" And she had answered, 
 " Yes." 
 
 He looked in now. She was there, but not engaged in 
 prayer. Lord Donald Courtroyd was with her, and Taddy's 
 bright bubble of belief, and reverence, and faith, and 
 worship, broke in an instant. And the little Adjutant's 
 prophecy had come true. 
 
 She was only a woman who had formed an ideal of 
 herself, and had not been able to live up to it. She was 
 merely that most dangerous and most pitiable of all 
 humbugs, the humbug who is half in earnest. But we 
 cannot make allowances in the first moment of a great 
 disillusion. To have put all your eggs in one basket rather 
 late in life, and to see that basketful smash, is a sore, sore 
 thing. It is best to cry when that happens, because 
 laughter means madness, or death by a suicide's hand. 
 
 Taddy laughed. As Lorna Doone galloped home over 
 the boulders and through the mud-holes of the gully-road, 
 and the cart jolted and swayed and creaked and groaned 
 like a living thing, he screamed with laughter. 
 
 Salt water ran down in the channels of that frantic 
 mirth ; those were tears that tasted bitter, but he laughed 
 on. The great white African moon looked out from behind 
 a tower of Gothic cloud-architecture, and he laughed at 
 her and the hidden sun ; at men — all fools ; women — all 
 vile ; and from the hollow ways demon voices seemed to 
 echo back. It was the Ride of the Goblin Knight — with- 
 out the Lady. Then the wheel struck upon a jutting knee 
 of sandstone and shivered ; the terrified mare bolted home 
 to the barracks with the fragments of the cart behind her,
 
 202 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 and Taddy found himself after an interval of blankness 
 before the Church of the Holy Contemplation. Lights 
 burned dimly ; it was the eve of a Feast. The last penitent 
 stole from the confessional as the haggard, dishevelled, 
 mire-bedaubed figure burst over the threshold of the 
 sanctuary. He staggered up a side-aisle, his bloodshot 
 eyes roving fiercely from object to object, dimly discerned 
 in the semi-gloom, his lips drawn back from the gleaming 
 teeth, his whole frame convulsed with paroxysms of silent 
 laughter. 
 
 And then a dimness came before his eyes ; he stumbled 
 and sank upon his knee. His head dropped forwards, 
 striking against a wooden beam ; and he lay prone, inert, 
 senseless, under the rude presentment of the sublime 
 tragedy of Calvary. 
 
 VI 
 
 The Admirable Mrs. Crichton was completely prostrated 
 by the shock of her bereavement. She had the remains 
 of her unfortunate spouse shipped home per steamer to 
 England, for interment in the family vault at Westwood- 
 Crichton, and followed in another vessel, by which Lord 
 Donald Courtroyd had, as it happened, taken a passage. 
 She was a little surprised, and rather hurt, at receiving no 
 visit of condolence, no sympathetic letter, from Taddy ; 
 but when she heard that he was lying ill, stricken with 
 fever, and delirious, at the barracks, she was ready to make 
 allowances. It was an immense relief to be able to depart 
 without any scene of explanation, any claim, perhaps, for 
 the redemption of a certain pledge, given by her some 
 months previously, when the twelve months inseparable 
 from decorum should have expired. As things turned out, 
 she married Lord Donald Courtroyd in nine months, 
 because Jerry had been killed by the keitloa and sewn up 
 in canvas for transportation by his sorrowing companions
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 203 
 
 fully twelve weeks before the news reached her. She was 
 quite sure Jerry would not have grudged her those three 
 months. He had always been so generous, poor fellow ! 
 
 Meanwhile Taddy lay ill of pneumonia and brain-fever ; 
 not the graceful, interesting kind of brain-fever that is 
 wont to strike down the hero or heroine of the modern 
 romance, but the real thing, with all its ugly, sordid, un- 
 pleasant details ; complete with its delusions, grotesque and 
 ghastly ; its vertigo and swoonings, its deadly nausea and 
 scorching agonies. He thought himself in hell, and 
 wandered about in the reek and gloom described by the 
 mediaeval gazetteers, looking for another spirit as lost as he. 
 But he never met her, though that sad, self-slain creature 
 to whom he had taught a moral lesson, you will remember, 
 years before ; came with other shapes behind her, indis- 
 tinct and vague, yet awful, too ; and put aside a veil she 
 wore, and showed him a face from the sight of which he 
 shrieked to be delivered. The blow that had prostrated 
 the mind and body had fallen at the proper time, when his 
 newly awauened conscience was smarting and tender, when 
 his nerves were unstrung for lack of the accustomed peg, 
 abandoned at thp command of his late divinity. It went 
 hard with tho patient, even to the verge of solving the 
 Great Mystery ; but the soul, though prepared for the 
 journey across life's borderland, did not depart. Taddy 
 recovered, with the loss of his crisp curls and bronze tint- 
 ing, and how much more ! And as soon as he could hold 
 a pen and write a few words without turning sick and giddy, 
 he sent in his papers, and disappeared — vanished swiftly 
 and suddenly, as the Carrollian butcher who met with a 
 Boojum — his family alone knew whither ; but they were not 
 to be drawn. It was vaguely understood that he had 
 taken a vow of something or other. Wasn't it odd ? But 
 before three years were past nobody remembered to in-
 
 204 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 quire ; and the Dapple Greys had got a new prodigy — the 
 son and heir of the great firm of Varnish, Deal and Co., 
 a young subaltern with a pudding-head and a fortune of 
 five millions. He had been put into the regiment to learn 
 to be a gentleman ; but, though he learned a great many 
 other things, he never mastered that. 
 
 After her marriage Lady Donald Courtroyd took a less 
 tender interest in the spiritual conditions of her male 
 acquaintances. Courtroyd was, his friends said, Othello 
 without the burnt cork. And though they went much into 
 society, and she was as much admired as ever she had 
 been, she was not attended by the mob of cavalieri-serventi 
 who were wont to buzz about her, and fetch and carry for 
 her, in poor Jerry Crichton's time. Courtroyd flew her on 
 a string like a tame sparrow or a paper kite. Between our- 
 selves, I think he ill-used her ; and she certainly followed 
 him about with her eye in a nervous way, and turned pale 
 if he raised his hand in gesticulation — and adored him 
 slavishly. He had not lived among savages for nothing, it 
 was plain. They lived in Odium Square, close to the Jesuit 
 church in Bracegirdle Street ; but she was not a regular 
 attendant. Courtroyd did not approve of too much 
 religion, among other things. 
 
 The Bracegirdle Street church is generally thronged by 
 smart people, many of them sheep of other folds. The 
 building — interior — is of superb proportions ; the paintings, 
 sculptures, altar-vessels, draperies, of the richest ; the 
 music of the best. Fashionable people go there a great deal. 
 Among the Fathers there are eloquent preachers, witty 
 preachers ; men of high and poetic mind, men of taste, men 
 of subtlety, men of the world ; physicians capable of treating 
 every ailment of the soul. Among these there is one who 
 joined the Church comparatively late, and who has a 
 military air, a keen-featured, handsome face, to which, 
 worn and prematurely aged though it be, the soldierly
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 205 
 
 moustache would seem a fitting ornament. He was, 
 indeed, a cavalryman and a noted ladykiller, it is whispered, 
 whose vocation for the priesthood was revealed to him by 
 a manifestation of the miraculous order. 
 
 Father Macallister, however, manifests no extraordinary 
 fitness for his calling. Indeed, he preaches with a doubtful 
 grace. His style is awkward, his delivery terse ; his sermons 
 are summaries of facts established ; his rod strikes upon the 
 desert-rock of heresy without evoking any outgush of 
 repentance. He is not popular in drawing-rooms where 
 pretty ladies who have fulfilled their engagements for the 
 season receive their spiritual director in the half-hour that 
 sandwiches in between the arrival of the jeweller — to 
 submit designs for the resetting of some diamonds — or the 
 visit of the last New Man. But he is exceedingly popular 
 in the slums of the neighbourhood — the crucibles where 
 typhoid is manufactured for the use of all classes ; by the 
 bedside of the sick, in the garret of the starving — there 
 Father Macallister shines. Few words and many deeds — 
 that is what the poor need ; and though they take them 
 roughly, without thanks, there may be a gratitude that 
 finds expression in dumbness. 
 
 When a smart woman of the world lay dying — and even 
 smart women must die, we know — and her lungs had been 
 always delicate — when Lady Donald Courtroyd lay dying, 
 she sent for Father Macallister. 
 
 She lay back upon her lace-edged pillows, gasping her life 
 away. There was reproach in the eyes she lifted to the 
 worn face of Father Taddy — eyes that used to be violet-blue, 
 but from the irises of which the colour was fast fading out. 
 " I asked them to send for you," she said, in a voice that 
 had lost its colour, like her eyes ; " I thought you would 
 come — now ! Though in all these years you have never 
 come to see me — never once ! ' : 
 
 " Father Gale is your director," the priest said, gently.
 
 206 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 
 
 ;t I know — I know ! But I wrote — and wrote. . . ." 
 
 : ' I answered every letter faithfully, my daughter," said 
 Father Taddy. 
 
 ' But they were so curt — so hard — so cold. And after 
 all," the dying woman said, with a plaintive accent of 
 reproach, " it was through me you found conviction — rest 
 in the Church." 
 
 He bent his head in answer. He was merciful. He was 
 silent. 
 
 Oh ! the strange, strange sound of the once-familiar voice 
 after all the years. That she could reproach him on her 
 dying bed with ingratitude ! But then she never knew how 
 she had lost the power to create illusions. She had never 
 heard from the Kaffir stable-boy of Taddy's drive, that wild 
 South African night, up the gully-road. He drooped his 
 head, and bore the reproach from the woman who had 
 betrayed his faith in her. Her eyes flickered and her 
 fingers moved ; she muttered a few incoherent words as 
 the nurse raised her head to pour some drops of a restorative 
 between the clicking teeth. 
 
 " I sent for you. ... I wanted to tell you. ... Oh! it 
 is hard ! But I must — it lies upon my conscience. You 
 thought me all goodness in those old days, when you . . . 
 when I . . . and I thought myself so strong, so strong ! 
 But there came a time when ... I was weak. And still I 
 let you go on behoving " 
 
 The husky moaning voice died away. The eyelids 
 quivered, but she had no strength for tears. Father Taddy 
 bent over her pillow. 
 
 " My daughter — I knew /" 
 
 She broke into a pitiful wail — the death-cry of a woman's 
 vanity. But after a little she grew calmer. Her husband 
 was abroad — she had had no children. It would have been 
 a lonely deathbed but for Father Taddy. 
 
 The end came, as he touched her brow with the chrism of
 
 MRS. CRICHTON'S CONVERT 207 
 
 Holy Unction. Before the last struggle a ray of con- 
 sciousness momentarily reanimated the heavy, sinking 
 clay, and flashed into her eyes. She lifted a finger and 
 pointed to her lips, colourless now, like those eyes, and with 
 purple shadows round them. 
 
 " Kiss me ! " she moaned. 
 
 But the man who loved her tore his yearning glance away, 
 and the priest it was who laid the crucifix upon those 
 fluttering lips, and pointed with a look of faith and pardon 
 — up"to":Heaven .
 
 XVI 
 
 TRANSFERENCE 
 
 Bagworth had chatted a little in his depressed, invalidy 
 way with the woman he had taken down to dinner. She 
 was a fair, abundant person, with the beginnings of a 
 double chin, whose deep and passionate interest in her food 
 made the civil babble of the man beside her seem even more 
 trivial than it was. " How can people be so wicked as to 
 talk," she thought, " in a house like this, where the chef is 
 paid four hundred a year, and the sole Normande is as good 
 as you get it at Sylvani's !" The entree was canard a la 
 Rouennaise, and absorbed her so completely that she would 
 not have heard the expiring shrieks of her firstborn. And 
 the pretty girl on Bagworth's right had been taken down 
 by the man of her heart, and was making the most of it. 
 Consequently Bagworth was unemployed. His dinner had 
 consisted of a lean cutlet and a bit of dry toast, washed 
 down with a glass of claret. 
 
 There were several other dyspeptics of both sexes at the 
 table, and not all of them had, like Bagworth, resisted the 
 insidious allurements of savoury dishes. Bagworth smiled 
 grimly as he scanned their countenances, already flushed 
 and puffy, or pallid and cadaverous. He knew the kind 
 of night they were going to have, and how they would feel 
 in the morning. But, the sweets having made their 
 appearance, the lady whom he had taken down was free to 
 bestow a little of her attention upon him. 
 
 " You have made a dreadfully bad dinner !" There was 
 
 208
 
 TRANSFERENCE 209 
 
 commiseration in her tone, and Bagworth was painfully 
 conscious of it. 
 
 ' You, on the contrary, have made an uncommonly good 
 one." 
 
 He meant to be sarcastic, but she smiled beamingly, 
 removing every lingering doubt about the double chin, and 
 throwing her dimples into strong relief . 
 
 " Thank Heaven, yes ! What is life worth when one 
 cannot eat ?" 
 
 " I am," said Bagworth, "in a position to enlighten 
 you." He made a duck's-egg with his right thumb and 
 forefinger. 
 
 "Nothing!" she said, with feeling. "Oh! how true. 
 How I have felt that !" 
 
 ' You are not going to tell me," pleaded Bagworth, 
 "that you ever carried pepsin tabloids at your porte-bonheur , 
 and rose from a sleepless pillow to toast the breaking of the 
 dismal day in dilute carbonate of soda ?" 
 
 She nodded affirmatively, for an omelette soufflee de- 
 manded her attention, and secured it. 
 
 " Astounding !" said Bagworth. " Marvellous ! Pro- 
 digious !" He took another glass of claret, and looked 
 longingly at a cheese-straw. 
 
 " My husband and I were both sufferers from acute 
 nervous dyspepsia," volunteered his neighbour. "He, 
 poor dear, practically lived on oatmeal biscuits and raw 
 
 minced meat. He is now " The jet embroideries upon 
 
 her corsage heaved as she sighed. 
 
 Bagworth, who, like most bachelors, was always intensely 
 sorry for a widow, bowed his head reverently. " I under- 
 stand. Please don't say it if it gives you pain." 
 
 ' But it does not give me pain," said Bagworth's neigh- 
 bom. ' There is my husband." She indicated with her 
 eyelids a red-faced, thin-necked, middle-aged man who sat 
 on tho opposite side of the table, three down, who had struck 
 
 14
 
 210 TRANSFERENCE 
 
 Bagworth as being frankly greedy, and whom he had envied 
 even while he despised. And seeing him vigorously eating 
 salted almonds, careless of consequences, Bagworth envied 
 him again, conscious of the impending rebellion of the 
 cutlet concealed behind his own white waistcoat. 
 
 " You were cured ? You were both cured ?" 
 
 There was a gleam of almost fierce interest in his usually 
 dull and weary eyes. " You went to some specialist — the 
 treatment was successful ? Was it Pooker-Gore or Sawly- 
 Oates ?" 
 
 " Why do you mention Pooker-Gore and Sawly-Oates ?" 
 asked the fair neighbour with the excellent appetite and the 
 incipient double chin. 
 
 " Because they are the only men I have not consulted," 
 said Bagworth. 
 
 " Relieve your mind of them !" said Bagworth's neigh- 
 bour. " They did not cure my husband or myself. In 
 fact," she added, completely taking away Bagworth's breath, 
 always short after food, " we are not cured at all !" 
 
 " What ?" ejaculated Bagworth, dropping his eyeglass 
 with a click. " Wha — what? I beg your — I beg! — but 
 wha " 
 
 " Of course, you find it difficult to believe me," said his 
 neighbour, whose husband was now finishing a dish of 
 bonbons. " But we are neither of us cured. We have 
 good appetites and excellent digestions at this moment, I 
 rejoice to say. But " — she consulted a tiny diamond 
 watch — " we shall only have them as long as they are 
 wanted, that is, until about four o'clock to-morrow after- 
 noon. The fact is — they are hired ! " 
 
 She made the announcement with so perfect an air of 
 
 regretful candour that Bagworth could only gasp. And the 
 
 red-faced man opposite was taking tawny port with walnuts. 
 
 ' I will smoke, thank you," said his neighbour, as the 
 
 cigarette-waggon wheeled her way.
 
 TRANSFERENCE 211 
 
 Bagworth gave her a light, and chose a cigar from his case 
 in a bewildered way. The cutlet was restive, and the 
 shock imparted by the discovery of the unhinged condition 
 of his neighbour's mind had made things worse. " They 
 oughtn't to let her out," he reflected gloomily, as she 
 leaned a round elbow on the table and blew smoke-rings. 
 " Might do something violent with a table-knife. They 
 oughtn't to let her out !" 
 
 " I am quite sane, I assure you," said the subject of his 
 reflections. 
 
 Bagworth, flushed with confusion and cutlet, could only 
 stammer that he was certain of it. 
 
 " Not quite," said his neighbour, smiling at him through 
 the smoke-rings. " Thank you, I will take coffee," she said. 
 
 " Forgive me," said Bagworth, " and let me offer you a 
 liqueur !" 
 
 But the proposal clouded his neighbour's brow. She 
 shook her head sorrowfully. 
 
 " There is no sky without a cloud, and the most excellent 
 digestive apparatus owns its weak point. The woman from 
 whom I hired mine drew the line at liqueur." She sighed. 
 " It is poison to her, though she can accommodate every- 
 thing else." 
 
 " You are not joking ? You are absolutely serious ?" said 
 Bagworth, looking hard at her. 
 
 " And sane !" added his neighbour, as she peeled a peach. 
 " Have you, twentieth centurian that you are, never heard 
 of Hypnobiologic Transference and Mental Organotherapy?" 
 
 " It's a tough mouthful — after dinner," Bagworth said. 
 
 " For you," said his neighbour, " but not for me, or for 
 my husband, or for any of the other guests at this table 
 who owe their present enjoyment, and will be indebted for 
 their subsequent tranquillity, to the treatment of Professor 
 Pinto, the discoverer of Transference." 
 
 " You don't mean " stuttered Bagworth.
 
 212 TRANSFERENCE 
 
 " I do !" she said, and she meant it. "The Professor 
 
 has plenty of clients in the best sets " 
 
 " His name, I think you said, is " 
 
 " Professor Albinio Pinto. His Institute is in Lower 
 Brook Street, Number Ninety A. You had better pay him 
 a visit," advised Bagworth's neighbour, " next time you 
 accept a dinner-invitation. I do not call his terms un- 
 reasonable. For the use of a pair of good appetites, with 
 digestions to match, George — that's my husband — paid 
 eight guineas. Eight guineas to be free for one night and 
 half a day from the miseries of nervous dyspepsia ! For 
 we are both of us sufferers." She sighed gently. " We 
 shall be sufferers again — after four o'clock to-morrow ! You 
 cannot conceive " 
 
 " I can conceive getting, supposing one was a sensitive 
 subject, a certain degree of imaginary relief from hypnotic 
 suggestion," began Bagworth. " But that one should be 
 able to call upon this man — as one would call upon a trades- 
 man — and bespeak an appetite for one's dinner " 
 
 " Not alone an appetite for one's dinner," corrected 
 Bagworth's neighbour. " You don't just begin to know 
 the far-reaching extent of the discovery when you talk like 
 that. Any capacity, mental or physical, can be obtained 
 on temporary loan, for a fee paid in advance at Professor 
 Pinto's Institute. For instance, there is a pretty woman 
 here to-night who has an ugly laugh." 
 
 " I know who you mean ! " said Bagworth. 
 
 " Go and talk to her after dinner," advised his neighbour, 
 " and you will find that she has suddenly acquired a laugh 
 to match her face." 
 
 " Which is charming," said Bagworth. 
 
 " The face is her own," acquiesced his neighbour, " but 
 the laugh is not. Look down the table to your left. The 
 man at the corner, telling a smart story at which people are 
 sniggering, is the dullest bore in London ! "
 
 TRANSFERENCE 213 
 
 " He's my brother-in-law," said Bagworth ; " and I quite 
 agree !" 
 
 " He has hired, for this night only, from Professor Pinto, 
 said the lady emphatically, " the complete mental equip- 
 ment of a good second-rate raconteur and professional diner- 
 out. Take my own case. I have expectations from an 
 aunt. She is a very vinegary, unpleasant old lady, and, of 
 course, expects me to be genuinely dutiful and affectionate 
 whenever we meet. Now, the truth is that I can't bear 
 her ! and so " 
 
 " Go on, go on !" entreated Bagworth, his dull eyes on 
 fire. 
 
 " So when I go to pay Aunt Susan my monthly duty- 
 visit, I hire a guinea's worth of genuine daughterly devotion 
 from Pinto," explained Bagworth's neighbour calmly. 
 " It is so real that the old lady is in ecstasies — and it lasts 
 until I tear myself away — sometimes longer. Once " 
 
 " Did you say Lower Brook Street ?" asked Bagworth. 
 He wrote down the complete address upon his cuff, and 
 called upon the Professor next day at the consulting-hour 
 of eleven. The house was sumptuously furnished with red 
 plush, gilding, Wardour Street old oak, and statuettes of 
 Italian biscuit — smiling, ogling, or leering in the pronounced 
 way usual with such works of modern art. 
 
 The Professor was tall, lean, and swarthy, with abundant 
 black ringlets, flowing necktie, a bulbous nose and lower 
 lip, and rolling ebon eyes. His command of English was 
 extraordinary, if the idiom was of another clime. 
 
 " How think you that I spick him ?" he demanded of 
 Bagworth, when the opening civilities had passed. ' I ap- 
 prehend to make some faults, but any rate he is to spick 
 always, right or bad ! " 
 
 "Couldn't possibly be better," said Bagworth, and men- 
 tioned the name of the lady client who had supplied the 
 Professor's address.
 
 214 TRANSFERENCE 
 
 a 
 
 Ah ! Never am I to myself, the ladies they como 
 everydays !" said the Professor, his shoulders at his un- 
 washed ears. " I have not a most pleasure in the world — 
 than to oblige the ladies ! . . . Handsome angelz !" He 
 kissed his grimy finger-tips, and added : " And when not 
 handsome, adorable, all same!" He struck an attitude. 
 " Now, what can I do to oblige at yourself V And as 
 Bagworth, flushing to the cheekbones in his dyspeptic way, 
 hesitated to explain, the Professor did so for him. . . . 
 
 ' You are indigestive — dyspeptic — neurotic, and come at 
 me like all the others for an appetite ?" said Professor Pinto. 
 
 ' Upon the end of the finger I have your case. Your 
 ancestros have drink too much, play too much, make love 
 too much, eat too much at themselves — comprender ? Conse- 
 quently their grandson have descend into the present day 
 without a stomach, without nerves, without not nothing ! 
 Prescribe the medical mens, the patient but continue to 
 suffer more strong. Then you tell the medicals go didblo, 
 and you come at me !" He plunged at a wheeled stand, and 
 slapped open a vast album of photographs. " Regard to 
 this photograph of healthy young man with excellent 
 appetite, and number one digestion. You shall have use of 
 that young man's inside for small dinner-party for small 
 charge three guineas. That you will be pleased I swear 
 you faith !" The Professor smote his chest. " Faith of 
 Albinio Pinto !" 
 
 Bagworth looked at his watch. It was nearly twelve. 
 "Look here," he said — he was a careful young man — 
 " make it two guineas, and I'll take your friend round to 
 my club for lunch. I haven't eaten the meal for months." 
 " I shall agree !" said the Professor, nodding, as Bagworth 
 produced two sovereigns and two shillings. Pinto pocketed 
 the money with a gleam of his black, tawny-whited eyes, 
 and " Como to this way !" he said, invitingly pulling back 
 the curtain of an inner sanctum containing an apparatus
 
 TRANSFERENCE 215 
 
 resembling a dentist's chair, a radio-electric lamp fitted 
 with a powerful lens, and a reading-stand. " Be enough 
 obliging to sit at this chair, yourself compose, look to your 
 front, think at nothing that troubles !" commanded the 
 Professor, and Bagworth seated himself as directed. Upon 
 the reading-stand, which the Professor placed in front of the 
 chair, previously tilted at a certain angle, Pinto placed the 
 album of photographs, open at the portrait of the healthy 
 young man. He arranged the lens, deftly switched on the 
 light, and Bagworth blinked owlishly in the almost in- 
 supportable radiance. 
 
 " I say " he protested. 
 
 " Silencio !" ordered the Professor curtly. 
 
 The light beat dazzlingly on Bagworth's eyeballs. For 
 relief he stared at the portrait of the healthy young man. 
 And that blunt-nosed, chuckle-headed personage seemed 
 to smile at him encouragingly, his thick lips revealing a 
 large mouth furnished with a full complement of teeth. 
 Then the figure seemed to swell, and grew as large as life ; 
 and the light became a thousand, and with the usual singing 
 in the ears and the customary sense of suffocation Bagworth 
 passed into unconsciousness. 
 
 " You take it very quiet, the hypnoty," said the Pro- 
 fessor, as Bagworth reopened his eyes. " The ladies, they 
 have from me take out the hairs, they have do me some 
 kicks, they have scratched me the face with their nails, 
 before this. You grunta a little, it may be, but otherwise 
 quiet as young sheep. You will go now and have the lunch, 
 carefully remembering that lobster quarrels with the young 
 man." 
 
 " The young man %" Bagworth stared stupidly. 
 
 " The young man whose digestion you have assume for 
 time being," said Professor Pinto. " Good-a-day !" 
 
 " It's a swindle," said Bagworth, walking towards Picca- 
 dilly. " That unsoaped Hispano-Portuguese is a charlatan
 
 216 TRANSFERENCE 
 
 of the worst. By Jove ! I feel hungry. Can it be 
 possible?" 
 
 The much-missed sense of vacancy, the tender yearning, 
 long unfelt, for the savoury and the succulent, assured him 
 that it was. He ran up the steps of the Younger Sons' Club 
 as gaily as a boy. He electrified the man who waited at 
 his table by the ravages he made upon the viands. He 
 astonished friends who toyed with food at neighbouring 
 tables. He took twice of roast, and called for a second 
 helping of pudding, indulged unrestrainedly in Stilton 
 cheese, and washed everything down with huge draughts 
 of lager. Clearly that healthy young man must have hailed 
 from the German Fatherland. Then he went into the 
 smoking-room, put up his legs, and waited in some anxiety. 
 But no painful symptoms heralded retributory anguish. 
 The healthy young man was staunch. Over a cigar his 
 lessee formulated a plan, and next day he called again upon 
 Professor Pinto. 
 
 " Ha ! you are satisfy !" said the Professor. " You have 
 eat enough without afterwards suffering. I wage that you 
 have come to hire again my healthy young man ? Him, I 
 deplore, you cannot get ! but I will you supply with another. 
 What ? It is something else for which you require ?" 
 
 " Speaking in confidence " began Bagworth. 
 
 The Professor winked. " We talk here nose at nose," he 
 said. " My honour professional I pledge at you for silencio. 
 Please empty yourself without the littlest reserve." 
 
 Bagworth emptied himself accordingly. He told the 
 Professor of the long-standing estrangement from his 
 family, which had been partly responsible for his dyspepsia. 
 He explained that the Bagworths of Deershire were not as 
 wealthy as their extensive landed possessions gave the world 
 to believe ; that his elder brother, the present baron, had 
 played polo with the bank-securities upon succeeding to the 
 title ; and that he, the younger son, was expected to contract
 
 TRANSFERENCE 217 
 
 an advantageous marriage with the wealthy but unattrac- 
 tive heiress of a neighbouring — and unencumbered — estate. 
 With high-bred delicacy he reserved the lady's name, and 
 only hinted that her unconcealed passion for himself had, to 
 the intense disgust of his family, been hitherto unrequited. 
 But the Professor grasped at the truth with a sagacity quite 
 surprising. 
 
 " I have no pains to conceive at you," he said, his dingy 
 finger against his bulbous nose. Before Bagworth could 
 prevent it, he found himself embraced, pressed to a bosom 
 garnished with an imitation cat's-eye and diamond pin, and 
 saluted by lips that smelt of garlic. " Here the utilidad of 
 my system shall serve to astonishment. Be at ease, 
 Sefior !" He charged at the bulky album of photographs 
 and slapped it open, and beckoned Bagworth with an 
 ecstatic gesture to come, come and see. 
 
 " Behold here a subject upon my list, a great deal fine 
 man of personal attraction, and disposition much amorous. 
 But there are others. . . . You shall choice ! The wealthy 
 Miss in the country shall be surprise and delight to discover 
 at you a lover of the most ideal. Behold again !" He 
 slapped the album open at another page. 
 
 " That fellow," said Bagworth, " looks as though he 
 could fall in love with anything!" He contemplated with 
 interest the impassioned lineaments of the portrait. 
 
 " He is a ledn of the desierto in his passions !" said the 
 Professor, " and, because of the esteem I entertain at you, 
 you shall have him for ten guineas the week. Reflect upon 
 the happiness you confer at your family. Think of tho 
 rapture of the Miss when she discover at herself genuinely 
 beloved by the man she have for so long adore. Imagine 
 what benedictions shall follow the union of two hearts that 
 thump at one. And take my young man — him cheaps — 
 at ten pounds !" 
 
 Bagworth thought a minute and concluded the bargain.
 
 218 TRANSFERENCE 
 
 He promised to inform the Professor by letter of the 
 progress of affairs. Subjoined is a note that distinguished 
 hypnobiologist received some three weeks later. 
 
 Stagthorn Hall. Deershire. 
 " Mr. F. Bagworth begs to inform Professor Albinio 
 Pinto that the young man rented of him is going on favour- 
 ably, and has given, up to date, every satisfaction. Mr. 
 Bagworth thinks he must be a Spaniard, because he insists 
 upon playing the guitar under the lady's window at night, 
 and eats tomatoes raw. Could the first-named tendency 
 be checked at headquarters, this being a rheumatic county ? 
 He has also threatened to stab a rival with a paper-knife, 
 and this sort of thing creates gossip. A reply from the 
 Professor would oblige." 
 
 But the Professor only sent receipts when the weekly ten 
 pounds rental was paid, and demands when it hung fire. 
 However, two months after Bagworth's marriage that 
 Benedict received the following letter written in a sloping 
 handwriting on a sheet of thin violet paper : 
 
 Lower Brook Street. 
 " i can't, my dear sir, express you of the felicity it 
 procure me to do my compliment at your marriage. This 
 write is also to inform at you that the young man what i 
 let you sum time behind at ten pounds per week unjoyf ully 
 is deado of an automobil what galloped him over in the 
 Totnaham Court Road. This is to speak that i have 
 another at stock i would let at a same price. Your reply 
 obliging respectfully attended. 
 
 " Albinio Honorho da Pinto, 
 " (mcdicar and maestro cientifieo) ." 
 
 " I thought something might have happened, but I 
 wasn't sure," reflected Bagworth. " Still, a man can't go
 
 TRANSFERENCE 219 
 
 on for ever singing duets with his wife, and leading her out 
 on the terrace to look at the moon, and gnashing his teeth 
 with jealousy whenever the curate calls ! . . . Tottenham 
 Court Road, too. There were things about that fellow 
 made me feel certain he was a waiter. For instance, his 
 habit of kissing housemaids stamped him, in my opinion, 
 as a complete bounder. Of course, one is always sorry for a 
 man who has been cut off suddenly, but in this chap's case 
 I think it was about time !" 
 
 And, with a slight, virtuous shudder, Bagworth tore up 
 the Professor's letter into minute fragments, and dropped 
 them into the waste-paper basket.
 
 XVII 
 
 A SUBALTERN'S HEALING 
 
 Stacey-Murchison, suffering from general disinclination 
 to do anything, was lying on the Rossmore sofa in his 
 quarters, when Doughty, his soldier-servant, a staid and 
 moral Scotchman, announced " the young lady who had 
 been sent for express." 
 
 Stacey-Murchison, pink to his hair-parting, first denied 
 having sent for any young lady, and then strenuously 
 refused to believe that any young lady had come. 
 
 " She says ye did, urr-gent," contended Doughty ; " no 
 absent treatment would dae. The operr-ater must come 
 wi'oot delay, an' she took the twalve-thretty for Alderrshot 
 from Waterrloo inconsequence. See f or yoursel' ! There's 
 a hired station- flee dune below, wi' a weary skeleton in 
 horse-hide between the shafts o' it, that stoppit before the 
 stane steps leadin' to the Officers' Mess as the Colonel and 
 the Adjutant were comin' oot. ' Hoots !' says the Colonel, 
 ' whatna' hae we here V and the neb o' him glooed like a 
 Sooth African sunset wi' fair passion, as he keeked in an' 
 saw her sittin' wi' her wee baeg upo' her lap an' a smile on 
 her face like a cat lappin' cream in a dairy. I wadna doot 
 but ye will hear opeenions laterr ; but for the noo, will I 
 no' be showing her in to ye ?" 
 
 Stacey-Murchison swore, and would have bounded from 
 the sofa, but that a feminine frou-frou of silk-linings, and 
 a cool, self-possessed " Good-afternoon " paralyzed his 
 bounding powers. The door that had admitted the visitor 
 was behind him ; he lay flat and looked up over his eye- 
 
 220
 
 A SUBALTERN'S HEALING 221 
 
 brows, and saw an alert, neatly-attired, undeniably blonde 
 young lady in rolled-gold pince-nez, who might have been 
 a lady typist or a secretary or a Board-school teacher. 
 She calmly waited until the scandalized Doughty had 
 handed her a chair and quitted the apartment ; then, deftly 
 picking up an embroidered camel - hair numnah which 
 Stacey-Murchison had kicked off the sofa, she spread it over 
 him, and sat down facing him. 
 
 "lam glad that in the midst of suffering that doubtless 
 seemed real to you," said the self-possessed young lady, 
 " you had the moril curridge " — her accent was slightly of 
 the Cockney, cockneyfied — " to have recourse to Us." 
 
 " I'm frightfully afraid," mumbled Stacey-Murchison, 
 with his mouth full of numnah — in the young lady's zeal 
 she had drawn it up over his face — " that I don't know 
 who ' us ' is. I — I mean that I am not quite posted as to 
 who you are." He coughed, for the blonde young lady 
 looked severe. 
 
 "You will be better instructed soon, I 'ope!" said the 
 young lady — who occasionally omitted to sound the aspirate 
 which is the Rubicon between the Masses and the Classes. 
 " 'Uxley once 'azarded that the only absolute science was 
 the Science of Theology. This, redeemed from all dogmas 
 and creeds by the refining and filtering process invented by 
 the Mother, contains no element of mental suggestion, or 
 hauto-suggestion, and involves nothing more than a 
 Practical Application of the Spiritual Law. To grapple 
 with Spiritual Facts, compre'end and use them for the 
 Regeneration and Healing of those hills that 'uinan llesh, 
 unsupported by Faith in a 'Igher Intelligence, is heir to, is 
 the Mission of every Christian Scientist." 
 
 " I presume, then, that you " began Stacey-Murchi- 
 son ; but the porthole was smartly closed. 
 
 " I presume that you, as we gathered at the 'Ead Office 
 from your telegram, suppose yourself to be suffering from
 
 222 A SUBALTERN'S HEALING 
 
 the effects of an accident sustained through the fall of your 
 animal while hunting ?" said the young lady, briskly. 
 
 " I'm beginning to have a faint glimmering of the reason 
 why you are here," said Stacey-Murchison. " But that 
 is on the landing below this, and if you will kindly " 
 
 " My business is with you," said the determined young 
 lady, opening her bag and producing a tuning-fork and a 
 serious-looking volume. " One of your knees is cut to the 
 bone, you think ; you imagine also that what you call your 
 spine has been badly ricked." She struck the tuning-fork 
 on the back of a chair, producing a vibrating hum which 
 gave Stacey-Murchison goose-flesh all over. " I will now 
 sing a hymn," she said. " But what are you grinding your 
 teeth for ?" 
 
 "Always . . . from a boy ... set 'em on edge . . .." 
 mumbled the agonized subaltern. 
 
 " Mere imagination," said the young lady. " You have 
 no teeth, no knee, no spine really. You are a mere aggrega- 
 tion of material atoms, and matter doesn't exist. It is a 
 Great Truth, and you must gape to swaller it ; but once it 
 is down, it changes everything " 
 
 " Like a Cockle's Pill," suggested Stacey-Murchison, 
 with a faint twinkle in his eye. But the young lady sang 
 her hymn, quite through, and read a chapter out of her 
 book, and then asked whether his knee did not feel better ? 
 and he said he had no pain in it whatever. Then she 
 inquired about his ricked spine, and he said it had never been 
 ricked at all, and worked quite easily. And the young lady's 
 rolled-gold-mounted glasses quite sparkled with triumph. 
 
 " I told you Pain was a mere illusion," she said, " and I 
 trust as a man of honour you will testify to your cure. It 
 would have been all the same if you had had catarrh or 
 cancer, the Applied Principles of Christian Science would 
 have cured either quite as easily." 
 
 " Or suppose I had taken poison — prussic acid for
 
 A SUBALTERN'S HEALING 223 
 
 choice," queried Stacey-Murchison with a pleasant smile. 
 " Would the Applied Principles have worked as effi- 
 caciously ?" 
 
 " All you would have needed to do in that case," said the 
 young lady, " would have been to say to yourself, ' I am 
 not poisoned ! I won't be poisoned ! there is no such thing 
 as poison, and Death does not exist !' " 
 
 "Uncommonly useful formula — what?" said Stacey- 
 Murchison. " In event of a lyddite shell bursting between 
 a man's legs, all he would have to do would be to say, ' I 
 am not blown into little bits ! I won't be blown into little 
 bits ! there is no such thing as being blown into little bits !' 
 and the rest of it, if he had time. And lyddite as a hurrier 
 is rather more urgent than prussic acid. Um ?" 
 
 The young lady put her book back in her bag, and 
 snapped it, and said she had no doubt Christian Science 
 would apply in either of the cases Stacey-Murchison had 
 mentioned ; but in the meantime, as she had healed his 
 cut-to-the-bone kneecap and his ricked spine, would he 
 kindly write out a cheque for five guineas payable to the 
 Manager of the London Central Branch Office ? 
 
 Then Murchison threw off the numnah, jumped off the 
 Rossmore, moved very nimbly to the door, opened it, and 
 bowed from the hips, quite in Levee style. . . . 
 
 " My ! how you walk !" cried the young lady, flushed with 
 professional pride — " as if nothing had been the matter 
 with you !" 
 
 " In point of fact, nothing was the matter with me," said 
 her late patient. " The spine and kneecap of which you 
 are in search belong to Parkinson of Ours, whose quarters 
 are on the landing below. I tried to tell you in the begin- 
 ning, but you stopped me with the blanket. Thanks all 
 the same for an exceedingly entertaining and instructive 
 seance. And good-afternoon. Don't forget, the landing 
 below." And he bowed the indignant young lady-healer out.
 
 XVIII 
 
 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 
 
 I 
 The Regality Theatre Syndicate, Limited, had met behind 
 the closed doors of the Acting-Manager's sanctum full half 
 an hour before. The Manageress, Miss Lilli Delosme, 
 occupied the saddle-bag sofa in a souffle of frills. The 
 Legal Adviser to the Syndicate occupied the post of 
 importance at the knee-hole table, before a pile of ledgers. 
 The Stage Director sat unassumingly upon the official safe, 
 and the Acting-Manager leaned, with folded arms and a 
 countenance carefully divested of all expression, against the 
 patent American hard-wood chimney-piece. The Finan- 
 cier's bosom friend and alter ego, Hambridge Ost — a small, 
 fatigued-looking man with carefully plastered hair and a 
 prismatic taste in neckties — had, with some little difficulty, 
 owing to the general limpness of the subject, disposed the 
 Financier — John Sholto St. Johnes, Marquess of Tod- 
 minster — in a chair. 
 
 " He's been like that ever since yesterday," explained 
 the Manageress, whose rendering of " Dicky- Bird, Dicky- 
 Bird, Peck Me in the Eye" had, according to Haddock of 
 the Daily Bouncer, " won the exquisite exponent of the 
 vocal and choreographic arts her unfading place in a 
 thousand English bosoms." " Nerves just anyhow, and 
 legs all over the place, because the Duke has had the 
 indecency to go and marry again. Don't say you boys 
 haven't seen it in the paper !" 
 
 The Manageress would have expatiated on the smarting 
 
 224
 
 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 225 
 
 subject, but the Acting-Manager and the Legal Adviser to 
 the Syndicate had already jammed their heads together 
 over the Morning Boast. 
 
 " ' On the 5th instant, at the Free -Belie vers' Tabernacle, 
 Gretsford-on-Groats, Blankshire, Drogo Alexander Henry, 
 eighth Duke of Crags, to Ann Emily, only daughter of 
 William Sewings, M.P., of 1,000, Lombard Street and " The 
 Hollies," Chiswick.' " 
 
 " Todo tells me," pursued Miss Delosme, " that the new 
 Duchess is quite the fogey, with plainly-parted hair, and 
 visits paupers in cellars with baskets of arrowroot when 
 she isn't sitting on platforms at Anti - Resurrection 
 meetings " 
 
 " Vivisection meetings, dear lady," corrected Hambridge 
 Ost. 
 
 " I call the whole thing immoral !" pouted Miss Delosme. 
 " And the Duke seventy, if he's a day. And to think of 
 him cutting Todo out of everything in the way of property 
 that isn't strictly thingummy-bobbed " 
 
 " Entailed, dear lady," corrected Hambridge Ost. 
 
 " Strictly entailed. And Todo says that nothing but the 
 title and Crags Castle — which is a kind of ruined stone 
 barn with an ivy bonnet on — legally belongs to the heir 
 presumptuous ' ' 
 
 " Presumptive, dear lady," sighed Hambridge, adding, 
 as the Financier took the amber handle of his stick out of 
 his hitherto speechless mouth, " I think Lord Todminster 
 has something to say." 
 
 " What I want to say is this !" said the very blotchy and 
 debilitated young English nobleman addressed. ' I say 
 the Duke's name had better be left out of the question. 
 The Duke had a perfect right to gratify himself — and he 
 has gratified himself ! That's what I say. And — though 
 they didn't think it worth while to ask me to the wedding, 
 what I say is — I wish the young couple every happiness !" 
 
 15
 
 226 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 
 
 " Bravo !" cried Hambridge Ost enthusiastically. 
 
 "Shut up, Hambridge!" said Todminster. "There's 
 another thing I want to say," he continued, looking round 
 upon the other members of the Syndicate. " It's with 
 regard to the profits of this musical play we've been running, 
 The Idiot Girl, in which I invested my little remaining pile 
 — eight thou., odd — six months ago." 
 
 " Well said !" exclaimed Hambridge ecstatically. " En- 
 core ! Bis!" 
 
 " What I say is," went on Todminster, " that as we've 
 played the piece to crowded houses night after night for 
 a jolly considerable time, I rather think," — he jammed 
 his eyeglass into one bloodshot eye, and made a face to 
 fix it — " I rather think the time has come for me to touch 
 my whack of profits !" He looked round the office, over 
 which the utterance seemed to have cast a damping fog, 
 encountering blank eyes set in expressionless faces. And 
 the eyeglass dropped with a surprised click, as he added : 
 " For I presume there are profits ?" 
 
 " Fifty per cent, of the net profits, my lord," the Legal 
 Adviser glibly explained, " not of the gross receipts. 
 And in Clause 8 you undertake that your share shall 
 not be withdrawn from the Syndicate's Emergency Fund 
 until " 
 
 " Until the Day of Judgment, you damn swindling cad !" 
 said Todminster, with a thick ferocity that made the Legal 
 Adviser quake behind his ledgers. Then Todminster 
 got up on his uncertain legs and blundered to the side- 
 board, filled a tumbler with brandy splashed with Apol- 
 linaris, emptied it, and passed out at the stage-door a few 
 minutes later a doubly-ruined man. His hair clung to his 
 wet forehead in streaks ; his bloodshot eyes were like the 
 eyes of a sweating, goaded, over-driven bull, worried by 
 yelping dogs and chased by howling butcher's-boys with 
 cudgels. The dissipated, worthless, debauched, may keep
 
 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 227 
 
 a sense of honour ; the thriftless and unconscientious may 
 rely upon the probity of others ; the untrustworthy may 
 trust, and suffer as keenly as their moral superiors — at the 
 discovery of deceit. Those thousands invested in the 
 production of the blaring, glaring variety-show, which 
 had appealed so irresistibly to the savage childishness of 
 the modern taste, were all that remained of a goodly sum 
 inherited by the prodigal at his majority, his mother's dot 
 of eighty thousand pounds. 
 
 These men to whom he had lent money, this woman 
 upon whose dresses, vehicles, jewels, furniture he had 
 lavished thousands, had robbed him. By the jeering 
 triumph in their eyes it was plain that they guessed him, 
 as he knew himself, to be penniless — a money-pump run dry. 
 The landlord of his Piccadilly chambers had that morning 
 served him with a writ ; his rows of boots, his clothes and 
 jewellery, sporting pictures, and silver-gilt dressing-plate 
 were in jeopardy at the baliff's hands. The gorgeously 
 furnished Mount Street flat, occupied by Miss Delosme, 
 knew him as its landlord and frequent guest. Well, 
 thither he would go no more. 
 
 People stared as the hatless figure with the dishevelled 
 hair and the blotchy face reeled down the Strand ; but 
 drunken men are no novelty, and this was to the ex- 
 perienced eyes of certain large men in blue serge — a swell. 
 He turned off to the right quite aimlessly before reaching 
 Temple Bar, and increased his pace by degrees to a run 
 as the pavement sloped under his stumbling feet. Then 
 he tripped, fell, and rolled down some steps, striking Ins 
 head heavily, and in that quiet place lay long, staring up 
 at the racing white clouds and the blue sky, until ho 
 mustered strength to stagger to his feet again. 
 
 ;c My gracious ! you are a figure of fun, and no mistake !" 
 
 Todminster's vague glance rested on a young woman 
 in the attire of the respectable lower class, and wearing
 
 228 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 
 
 a Salvation Army bonnet, who stood near an iron seat from 
 which she had risen, resting upon it a large, dingy calico 
 bag, evidently containing something bulky and heavy. 
 There was no mockery in her tone, no amusement in her 
 sincere grey eyes, but something controlling, sustaining, 
 helpful. His muddled brain slowly cleared, as he stiffly 
 dropped upon the seat beside her, and he became con- 
 scious of grave old buildings round about, of twittering 
 sparrows, trees in their green summer dress of leaves, and 
 of a little fountain playing within an iron cage. 
 
 " If that water wasn't railed in, an' I could wet your 
 'andkerchief," said the young woman, in her soft and 
 soothing voice, " I could do somethink for that nasty cut 
 on your 'ead. . . . There's nothink like cold water — when 
 it's clean — for the inside as well as out, and if somebody 
 'ad rubbed that well into you when you were a kid, you'd 
 be a different young man to-day. Anybody can see with 
 'arf a' eye that you've been on the spree for days and 
 weeks, and if you 'ave a mother " — Todminster winced — 
 " or a wife, my advice is, go 'ome to 'er, ask 'er forgiveness, 
 and take the pledge, right off, or join the Army !" 
 
 " I ammabliged by your goorravice," said the object of 
 the young woman's address ; " but I have been in the 
 Army." 
 
 " Not the Salvation Army !" cried the young woman 
 incredulously. 
 
 " Norri'zackly," said Todminster. " Guards. Found 
 milirary life in many respess unnesirable — lef the Service 
 in cons'quence." He waved his hand grandly. " Priva' 
 reasons, unnerecessary t' explain ! But the connition of 
 morals in the Servish leaves mush to be resired !" 
 
 " I can guess what you are now," said the young woman 
 knowingly. " A draper's gent. Aint' I right ? Them 
 clothes of yours, though a bit too swelly for my taste, 
 was lovely before you spoilt 'em ; and them cuff-links you
 
 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 229 
 
 'ave on might be diamonds, if I 'adn't seen 'em on 
 a card for one-an'-six. Where's your place of business ? 
 Oxford Street or the Edgeware Road is what I said 
 when you caught my eye ; and won't your old man 
 take you on again if you promise to keep sober for the 
 future ?" 
 
 " His Grace has issued his ultima-hic-tum !" said Tod- 
 minster, clenching his shaky right hand until the bleeding 
 knuckles started into painful relief. " Says he'll give me 
 one chance ; on his own connitions. Six months of sobriery 
 the stipularid term. Six months of moral connuct and 
 mineral warrers, six months of going to bed with the little 
 
 hic-birds and gettin' up with the early worm, six " 
 
 His voice trailed off into silence. His heavy head sank 
 forward. 
 
 " And can't you turn over a new leaf and try ?" asked 
 the velvety voice with the vulgar Cockney accent. 
 
 ; ' My dear young lady " Todminster lifted his eye- 
 brows and shook bis aching head. " Impossible. Too 
 late. Bound to break down and go under ! An' the 
 sooner over — the better! For all parties concerned!" 
 He tried to laugh, but a dry sob rose in his throat. 
 
 The young woman leaned a little nearer to him, pitiable, 
 blinking object that he was. " Worse than you has pulled 
 themselves together and got back into respectable situa- 
 tions again. I ain't kidding. I've knowed, I've seen — 
 I've 'elped ! Don't tell me you couldn't — don't you dare 
 to say it's too late ! It ain't, so help me Gawd ! Oh ! why 
 ain't father here to 'ave a talk to you ?" 
 
 " Is your — is your father a medical man ?" asked 
 Todminster. 
 
 " Bless you ! not a bit of it," said the young woman in 
 the Salvation bonnet, laughing and blushing. " He's a 
 common working man, just as I'm a common working 
 woman, but he 'as a knack with habitual drunks that's
 
 230 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 
 
 wonderful. He teaches 'em to overcome the cravin'. 
 He's cured dozens — father has — he'd be a great man if 
 'e 'ad 'is due. We live in a little back street off 'Ammer- 
 smith Broadway, near the railway arches — Clara Place, 
 it's called. And father and me are boot-closers — we does 
 hand-sewing for City firms that 'ave faddy customers what 
 won't 'ave nothing to do with machine-stitched wear — 
 lucky for us ! And I was on my way 'ome from the cutter's 
 with this " — she indicated the dingy bag — " and I'd ask 
 you to come wi' me to father now, if you didn't mind being 
 seen walking in company with a young woman who was 
 carrying such a common thing ?" 
 
 Todminster laid a shaky white hand with bleeding 
 knuckles upon the burden. 
 
 " I shall carry it myself," he said, with quite an access 
 of determination and self-reliance. " And now, my dear 
 young lady"— he straightened his tall form carefully, 
 repressing a hiccup—" we will go and see your father !" 
 
 II 
 
 So the Marquess of Todminster, in company with a bag 
 of unclosed upper-leathers, and a young woman wearing 
 a Salvation bonnet, walked hatlcss out of his social sphere 
 and vanished. The family solicitor telegraphed to his 
 Grace of Crags, Scotland Yard made a few invertebrate 
 efforts to trace the missing man, Todminster's landlord 
 laid hands upon his Jermyn Street effects, a horse or two 
 at a well-known trainer's establishment changed owners 
 and names, Miss Delosme flitted from the Mount Street 
 flat with all her own personal property and a great deal 
 besides, and Mr. Piperno, Professor of Moral Calisthenics 
 and Reclaimer of Inebriates, received a new boarder at 
 his commodious six-roomed establishment at Clara Place, 
 the Broadway, Hammersmith. The few sovereigns and 
 the lonely ten-pound note Todminster had about him upon
 
 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 231 
 
 the morning of his great disillusionment defrayed the 
 Professor's charges for a considerable time, the said charges 
 being extremely moderate — fourteen shillings a week. 
 Upon the advice of Miss Piperno, whose Christian prefix 
 was Anaemia — the deceased Mrs. Piperno having nourished 
 a preference for " romantic names " — the clothes in which 
 Todminster had first presented himself to her notice were 
 repaired, carefully brushed, and laid away in a drawer — 
 " Against the time when you're fit to go back to business," 
 said Anaemia cheerfully. " And, in my opinion — though 
 drapers' gents are expected to dress showy, and that after- 
 noon lounge-suit and fancy neckwear may have knocked 
 the young ladies in the Show Department silly — I like 
 you better in that cheap line of moleskins you bought for 
 eight-and-six, an' that Salvation guernsey I 'ad by me. 
 I'd bin keepin' it for father, but 'e 'angs back from enlistin' 
 under the Flag for good, though 'e likes the singin' and 
 preachin' a fair treat." 
 
 She sat at her boot-closing in the front kitchen sitting- 
 room, which had a clean starched muslin blind and a large 
 pelargonium in the window. The back kitchen was 
 sacred to Mr. Piperno, who at that moment rapped on 
 the wall with a lapstone, and called out in rather a husky 
 voice : 
 " Time !" 
 
 " There's father calling," said Anaemia brightly. " It's 
 time for your lesson in self-restraint and alco'olic avoid- 
 ance, and anyone wicked enough to be doubtful of father's 
 gift in 'ealing 'as only to look at your eyes and complexion 
 after only five months of the treatment to be struck con- 
 victed and repentant for ever after ! And your hand 
 almost as steady as a rock, and your legs a-taking of you 
 where you want to go," she concluded triumphantly, 
 " without any jibbin'. A new man, that's what you'll be, 
 beforo your governor's six months are over ! Was your
 
 232 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 
 
 fried sossidges and coffee to your liking ? I notice your 
 appetite gets better as you go on." 
 
 " The sausages and the coffee were super-excellent !" 
 said Todminster. 
 
 " There's a long word," cried Anaemia, in motherly 
 delight. " What a 'ash you'd have made of it five months 
 ago — wouldn't you ?" 
 
 " It's probable — it's quite certain that I should," agreed 
 Todminster. He got up from his Windsor chair, nodded 
 pleasantly to Anaemia, and went into the back-kitchen. 
 Its occupant, a small, grimy, muscular man, with angry 
 green eyes, a bristly beard, and a shock of crimson hair, 
 looked up from his work to observe : 
 
 " Late again, young feller !" 
 
 " I'm simply awfully sorry ! " began Todminster. " Upon 
 my word " 
 
 " Don't come over me with no soft sawder," said Mr. 
 Piperno sternly, " because it won't go down ! You've 
 come to me to be reformed of your bad 'abits, and un- 
 punctualness is one of 'em, together with sloth." He 
 deftly connected the end of a waxed twine with a hog's 
 bristle, and continued : " Sloth is to be overcome by early 
 risin', lightin' the fire, and sweepin' out the kitchen an' 
 back-yard. Exercise is another good thing for the lazy — 
 here's a bundle of closed uppers to be taken down to 
 Finsbury Pavement by an' by. As for intemperance, 
 which is your crying sin, we're goin' to try a back-fall with 
 it as usual. 'Ave you a bob ?" 
 
 Todminster produced the coin. 
 
 " You take that jug off the dresser an' get a quart o' 
 beer at the Stag and Castle," commanded Mr. Piperno ; 
 " an' as you're about it, git three-penn'orth of unsweetened 
 gin as well — the other kind is un'olesome after a full meal. 
 There's a cracked blue mug you can bring that in. Don't 
 you try to drink none in the Bottle and Jug department,
 
 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 233 
 
 for the landlord is a pal o' mine, an' won't allow it ; and 
 don't you dip your beak in the liquors coming 'ome, becos' 
 I shall know it if you do." 
 
 Todminster looked down on the swart and truculent 
 little man with an odd expression as he took the indicated 
 articles of crockery from the dresser. 
 
 Ten minutes later he occupied a backless chair in the 
 middle of Mr. Piperno's Moral Academy for Inebriates. 
 His extended right hand sustained the beer-jug, on the 
 summit of which a snowy head of foam mantled and 
 dimpled in a seductive way. In his left hand was the 
 mug with the gin in it. Mr. Piperno looked upon his 
 neophyte, thus poised between two temptations, and 
 Todminster looked at Mr. Piperno. 
 
 " What a thing is the passion for liquor !" said the boot- 
 closer, scowling very savagely first at the mug, and then 
 at the beer-jug, and then back again from the beer-jug 
 to the mug. " It reddens the nose, infeebulates the con- 
 stitution, empties the pockets, and breaks up the 'appy 
 'ome. There you set, a brand what I am about to snatch 
 from the burning. In one 'and you 'old Destruction in 
 the shape of gin ; in the other Ruin, in the agreeable fluid 
 form of beer." The Professor smacked his lips longingly. 
 " Look me in the eye " — he fixed his small green eyes 
 blinkingly on Todminster's brown ones — " look me in the 
 eye, and say after me : ' My friend, I do not wish to drink 
 of this beer ; neither have I no desire for to wet my lips 
 with the gin in this here mug !' " 
 
 " I don't," said Todminster bluntly. " I haven't ! I 
 wouldn't give a little hang for either, upon my word !" 
 
 ' You are a-burning for 'em, you are a-yearning for 'em, 
 you are a-thusting for 'em, you are a-busting for 'em," said 
 Mr. Piperno. " What takes the edge off your desire for 
 'em this present moment ? My eye, my will-power, and 
 my moral force ! Turn them three off at the main, and
 
 234 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 
 
 where are you ? A masterless 'ulk, tossing on the billers 
 of intemperance. Don't tell me you wouldn't give a 'ang 
 for that beer and that gin, for I know better ! Wot was 
 your special poison, then, if they don't appeal to you ?" 
 
 " I used — I'm afraid — to put away a good deal of the 
 Boy," owned the pupil ingenuously, " and I was a frightful 
 pegger. Brandy and polly all the time, and vermouth 
 and absinthe as pick-me-ups, besides " 
 
 " I don't know no such drinks as vermouth and 
 habsinthe," said the Professor, " and my belief is you don't 
 neither. Also, if you've put away a boy, you must 'ave 
 done it in a fit of raging drunkenness ! Nothing brings 
 that on, in my experience, like 'ot rum on the top of stout. 
 We'll try you with both them beverages next lesson. For 
 this I do know, young man — there ain't going to be no 
 backsliding while you're under my eye ! Now you've bin 
 sufficiently strengthened in your self-control for the present, 
 and you may take that bag of uppers down to the shop. 
 Don't you 'ave no bus, 'orse, or motor ; there's plenty of 
 time, and walking's good for you. 'Ullo ! Wot are you 
 a-going to throw that there gin and beer down the sink for ?" 
 
 " Only meant to save you trouble," rejoined the pupil. 
 ' You always tell me you throw the swipes down the sink 
 when I'm gone." There was an odd twinkle in the eye 
 that met the Professor's. 
 
 " Take yourself off, young man," said the great moral 
 suasionist with dignity, " and don't let me 'ave none of 
 your lip! Leave the filthy liquor on the table — it's no 
 temptation to me ! Your next lesson is at seven p.m." 
 
 Todminster obeyed the gesture of the stubby, black- 
 nailed finger that pointed to the back-door. He threw 
 on his cap, picked up the bag of uppers, and stepped out 
 into the yard. As he did so, the bolts of the kitchen-door were 
 violently shot, and the kitchen blind abruptly descended. 
 
 "Cunning old cock!" said the pupil softly. He put
 
 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 235 
 
 down the bag of uppers, softly ascended the rain-water 
 butt, and made a long step from that receptacle to the 
 leads covering the back kitchen. A central frame con- 
 tained a skylight, the thick glass grimy with ancient dirt. 
 Todminster rubbed a clear spot with the cuff of his Salva- 
 tion guernsey, and peeped in. What he saw he had 
 witnessed before ; but the smile upon his lips betrayed un- 
 satiated enjoyment of the spectacle of the Professor pouring 
 from the gin-mug into the beer- jug, and immediately 
 afterwards taking a long, relishing draught out of the 
 larger receptacle. Todminster longed to startle him with 
 a view-holloa, but he repressed the longing, noiselessly 
 descended from the leads, and betook himself at a stiff 
 pace to the City. 
 
 Meanwhile, Ansemia was enjoying the improving society 
 of the lady Scripture-reader — a mild, pleasant-looking 
 person of forty, with plainly-parted hair. 
 
 " For I 'aven't seen you for a month of Sundays, Miss 
 Sewings," she said, bringing forward the best chair with 
 evident pleasure. " Well, I declare ! You 'ave been busy 
 all this identical time, haven't you ? Married up North — 
 and to a widow-gentleman-like as might be father ; only 
 with a grown-up son instead of a grown-up daughter. 
 And you won't live at the Hollies, Chiswick, no more, and 
 — please say your new name over again ! ' Sin j ones ' — 
 ' St. Johnes.' Why, that's what father's last patient's 
 name is, the reformed gentleman-drunkard I've told you 
 about. John Sholto St. Johnes — and if you'd like a 
 glimpse of 'im, 'e's 'aving 'is afternoon course of treatment 
 in the back-kitchen this minute, and I'm sure you're 
 welcome to peep through the crack o' the door." 
 
 The Scripture-reading lady — whom the reader will have 
 guessed to be no other than the Duchess of Crags, nee 
 Sewings — did peep, and immediately recoiled from the door 
 with a suppressed shriek. For in the healthy-looking
 
 236 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 
 
 young man in the moleskin trousers and Salvation guernsey, 
 who sat under the fire of Professor Piperno's eye, patiently 
 holding at either arm's length a blue mug and a spotted 
 jug with a head on it, she recognized her stepson, the 
 missing prodigal, John Sholto St. Johnes, Marquess of 
 Todminster. One can guess in what a flutter of excite- 
 ment the good creature stowed her Bible in her little brown 
 leather handbag, and fluttered away to Belgravia in search 
 of the Duke of Crags. Him she found in the throes of 
 gout, Sir Nathaniel Belper in attendance, exciting topics 
 tabu. The Duchess settled down beside the bed, effer- 
 vescing, but dutifully corked. 
 
 So the last weeks of the six months went by, and the 
 end of the time of probation loomed very close in sight. 
 Woman had ever been the rock upon which the irrepressible 
 Todminster had split, but in the present instance the rock 
 had afforded a sure refuge from devouring seas. The 
 dissipated peer was in love with the virtuous boot-closer, 
 and the passion that had supported him through five 
 months of the Professor's object-lessons it will be granted 
 must have been genuine. The sardonic humour of having 
 been ostensibly cured of open inebriation by a secret 
 drunkard poked him in the ribs ; his gratitude to the 
 drunkard's daughter drowned the twinkle in his eye. 
 After all, Anaemia had done it. Her wholesome dieting, 
 her no less wholesome lectures, the early hours kept, the 
 vigorous exercise taken in company with the bag — these 
 things had whitened the Ethiopian and caused the desert 
 to blossom. Yes, it was Anaemia who had saved him. 
 Would she have the pluck to marry him ? he asked himself, 
 and asked himself so often that one day he asked her. 
 
 " How did you ever come to like me so ?" she cried 
 joyfully, the grey eyes dilating, until they seemed to fill 
 her sweet, blushing face. " No ! I wouldn't be afraid — 
 not with such a man as father ever near."
 
 TODMINSTER'S THIRST 237 
 
 " But without Mr. Piperno " hinted Todminster. 
 
 " Oh, you wouldn't — you couldn't go back ?" she cried. 
 45 Not to what you were when I see you first and pitied 
 over you, a wondering, ' Was there no woman ever loved 
 you enough to keep you straight V " 
 
 " There was never one but you, my dear !" said Tod- 
 minster, slipping the arm in the scarlet guernsey round 
 her waist — a slender and pretty waist, if corseted at one- 
 and-eleven-three. He remembered the Delosme and others of 
 her kind, and mentally gnashed his teeth at his own thrice- 
 besotted idiocy. " And yet, if I hadn't jumped the track 
 of respectability," he reflected, " I shouldn't have met 
 this blessed little soul. We'll let it go at that !" And 
 he put remorse manfully away as he kissed the blessed 
 little soul. 
 
 " The six months is up to-morrow, dear," said Anaemia 
 presently, " and you'll go back to the old shop and ask 
 your governor to take you on again, if you're wise." 
 
 " My governor ! . . the old shop . . . take me on !" Tod- 
 minster repsated blankly. Then his face lighted up. He 
 laughed, understanding. " Yes, little woman, I'll go back, 
 but the shop isn't quite the kind you mean — or the 
 governor. I should rather like to see the governor again, 
 poor old man. He did a rash thing six months ago — got 
 married again ! I wonder how it has agreed with him ?" 
 
 " If he's got a second as good as our Scripture-reader 
 lady," said the loyal Anaemia, " he's done well for hisself. 
 She've not bin' near me lately — sent a letter-card with a 
 West-end postmark to say her dear husband was suffering 
 sadly from an inflammatory attack, and her place could 
 only be by his side." She rose from her chair with a joyful 
 exclamation, hurriedly unwinding the sleeve of the Salva- 
 tion guernsey from her pretty waist. " How odd !" she 
 cried. " Talk of angels ! . . . Our Scripture-reader's just 
 passed by the window with such a nice, clean old gentleman
 
 238 TODMTNSTER'S THIRST 
 
 — her husband, I expect. And hark ! that's her knock at 
 the door." She gleefully tripped into the close little 
 passage, she opened the hall door, and ushered her visitors 
 into the front kitchen. " Walk in, Miss Sewings, please, 
 ma'am. Walk in, sir, you're kindly welcome both. There's 
 nobody here but " — she blushed beautifully, indicating to 
 the Duke and Duchess of Crags the brand from the burning 
 in the red Salvation guernsey — " but my young man." 
 
 H* 9|C JjJ 5)t I|S 
 
 " Such is gratitood !" complained Professor Piperno some 
 weeks after to a select circle of Hammersmith admirers. 
 " Serpents' teeth and crocodiles' tears. To me, the man 
 to 'oom everythink is owed, a measly twenty poun' note. 
 To him and her, Markis and Markiness of Todminster, 
 'undreds an' 'undreds of acres of sheep-grazin' in Victoria, 
 Noo South Wales, a 'ouse, stock-farm, and two thousand 
 pounds per ann., until the old 'un drops off the perch and 
 lets 'im in for millions. Him, that young aristocrat what 
 I reformed of 'is 'igh-bred 'abits ! — him no more able to do 
 without my guidin' 'and an' savin' influence than a noo- 
 born babe ! Why, a ostrich might as safely go a-walking 
 in a thunderstorm after a full meal of pocket-knives as 
 that young man — my son-in-law — venture among the 
 temptations of the world without me by 'is side!" He 
 shook his head prophetically and — he had been giving a 
 lesson in self-control to a new pupil that afternoon — 
 shed a few tears. " But they'll send for me before long," 
 he said. " They'll send for me, and I'm not the man for 
 to desert my own flesh and blood in trouble — I shall go !" 
 
 It is worthy of record that, although several years have 
 passed since the shrill society scandal caused by the ex- 
 traordinary mesalliance of the Marquess of Todminster with 
 a young person of the working classes, and the subsequent 
 emigration of the couple in question, Mr. Piperno has not 
 yel been sent for.
 
 XIX 
 
 WHITE FOX 
 
 It is historically recorded how an aged Imperial Dowager, 
 snapping sparks from the bright brown eyes that once 
 adorned the comely countenance of a Cantonese slave- 
 girl, dragged the hem of her sacred yellow brocade robe 
 from the despairing clutch of the Lord of Ten Thousand 
 Years, the Son of Heaven, Master and Ruler of China 
 (and what else goes to make up the world), by the express 
 appointment of the gods in council ; and, with a petulant 
 movement of an undeformed foot, kicked over the beehive 
 of Europe and waked snakes in the United States. Con- 
 sequently, within a very short time, the Gulf of Pechili 
 was adorned., studded — even as a dish of trifle with ratafias 
 and macaroons — by the battleships, transports, armoured 
 cruisers, and destroyers of six indignant Powers, round 
 which little black, active torpedo-boats played like a 
 school of porpoises, while the turtle-backs of three sub- 
 marines showed, rolling among the crisp blue jobbling 
 wavelets like lazy, basking whales. 
 
 Peking was in the hands of the Allies ; the Emperor, 
 the Dowager Empress, and all the chief officials had fled 
 to Tai-yuen-fu, in the West, the spirited old lady having 
 beheaded, at the very last moment, three Ministers who 
 advised her to make terms. The Imperial City, swept 
 clean of Chinese by the broom of Count Von Waldersee, 
 hummed with men of every other race and colour known 
 upon the face of the earth ; and, while a representative force 
 marched through the Purple Forbidden City playing half- 
 
 239
 
 240 WHITE FOX 
 
 a-dozen different national anthems at once, international 
 sentries were posted in the Imperial palaces to prevent 
 looting. The palaces of the Mandarins, chief eunuchs, 
 and Imperial Court favourites were thoughtfully over- 
 looked. 
 
 James Anstruther Winnington, Musketry Lieutenant of 
 the second-class armoured cruiser Tornado, sent up from 
 Tientsin with a junior, a couple of midshipmen, and a 
 force of sixty bluejackets dragging a gun, to aid in the 
 maintenance of good order and the preservation of the 
 propriety dear to the British Navy, came at a rapid slinging 
 trot over one of the marble bridges that cross the moat 
 separating Prospect Hill, with its Buddhist temples, from 
 the Forbidden City. The yellow manure-dust of the 
 City outside had clotted with the sweat upon James 
 Anstruther Winnington and his men, so that their white 
 drill had assumed a khaki shade. They were bloodstained, 
 for in the preservation of order the fighting had been lively ; 
 and James Anstruther Winnington had lost the peak of 
 his cap and a slice of his eyebrow, from a slashing sabre-cut 
 administered by a frenzied trooper of an Indian Cavalry 
 Regiment, mad with arrack and the loot-fever both. 
 
 "Pretty, pretty!" said Winnington to his junior, as a 
 roaring torrent of human sewage rolled in and out of 
 the gateways of the marble palaces, and the shrieks of 
 women pierced the hubbub. " See those French artillery- 
 men and bluejackets in the thick of it, and the Russians 
 making hay while the sun shines ; they're throwing the 
 furniture and china into the courtyards from the galleries 
 because they can't carry it away ! Lord, if my mother 
 at home in Deershire only saw the dragon-ware going 
 smash, she'd die of pure horror ! Hullo, who's this 
 prancing lunatic in the gilt bedgown ? Get back there, 
 you beggar, or I'll jab you in the ribs ! Get back ! d'ye 
 hear ?"
 
 WHITE FOX 241 
 
 " Make way for me, for Hi ham the Hemperor of Chiny !" 
 howled a hoarse voice out of a frothing mouth. " Bow 
 down, you perishin' Navy swine, before the Himperial 
 Kwang Shu ! You cocoa-swillin', preserved spud-eatin', 
 deck-scrapin' son of a condemned Belleville biler an' a 
 vertical triple-expansion-engine, it's as much as your 
 crimson life is worth to lay a finger on me ! Bow down 
 while Hi gits into me Imperial state chariot, for Hi ham 
 the Anointed of the Lord !" 
 
 He who frothed and threatened was a stalwart man of 
 thirty, with bloodshot eyes, an inflamed countenance, and 
 a red moustache, clotted as if with shaving-soap. On his 
 head was a filigree silver-gilt flower-pot, fixed upside down, 
 and his tall figure was clothed in the resplendent silken 
 folds of a gold-embroidered Mandarin's robe lined with 
 rich, snowy, glistening fur. He brandished in one powerful 
 hand a wicker-covered glass flask of native spirit ; and in 
 the other a bottle with the foil of Martell ; and from the 
 bosom of the robe he wore projected the neck of another 
 bottle. Never was there a more wildly drunken private 
 than this raving creature who tried to force his way through 
 the dusty, blood-stained ranks of the grinning bluejackets 
 in order to mount upon the gun. 
 
 : ' He's one of the Royal Deershires, sir," said Winning- 
 ton's sub-lieutenant close behind his ear. " The Second 
 Battalion has been sent up from Hong Kong, you know !" 
 The resplendent dressing-gown, open at the breast, 
 showed a Regimental number on the man's Service khaki, 
 and an indicative scrap of colour. Winnington was a 
 Deershire man, and though this Cockney drunkard was 
 none ; still, a Winnington had led the regiment into action 
 at Abu Klea, and left his brave bones in a shallow grave 
 under the mud-baked walls of Metemneh. 
 
 ' Wants to ride the gun, does he ?" said Winnington, 
 grimly. " Put him up then, and spreadeagle him with 
 
 16
 
 242 WHITE FOX 
 
 a spare lashing. You've got to travel with us now, you 
 taut-skinned, fiery-eyed lunatic, whether you like it or 
 not !" he added, as the grinning Tornados obeyed. " We'll 
 hand him over to the Deershires later on !" And the gun- 
 team, and the gun, and the man on the gun went up-hill 
 at the double. 
 
 " Drunk and lootin'," said the senior Captain of the 
 detachment of Royal Deershires that had been sent to 
 relieve the exhausted garrison of the British Legation, 
 when No. 645, Company F., was obligingly returned to 
 him some hours later, by a deferential petty-officer of 
 H.M.S. Tornado and six obsequiously smiling gunner 
 seamen. 
 
 " Gad ! if his tunic was stuffed with jewellery it wouldn't 
 be fair to stick the poor beast in cells (if I had any cells 
 to put him in), not while the Allied Army stops outside 
 'em ! But my thanks to Mr. Winnington all the same. 
 I'll send him back the next balmy bluejaoket of his I 
 stumble across, say, with my compliments." 
 
 " Kiss me, mother, ere I die," sang the offender, who 
 had lapsed into the melodiously-maudlin stage. The 
 silver-gilt flower-pot had vanished from his brow, but the 
 majesty of the dressing-gown still clothed him. " I was 
 the Hemperor of Chiny, but them crimson thieves o' 
 sailormen 'as stole me crown, an' I've got a cold in me 'ead 
 for want of it !" 
 
 " He's raving, sir," said the petty-officer anxiously. 
 
 "Ravin' be jiggered, you duff-fed burglar!" said the 
 drunken private in the gorgeous robe. Then he began to 
 slip from the willing hands that held him until he lay upon 
 the marble pavement of the Legation courtyard. " Rest, 
 rest for the weary !" he sang. " But 'ow can a man rest 
 with pains in 'is bones like them what I 'ave ? From 
 'ead to foot I'm a livin' toothache, Gawd 'elp me ! 
 Oo-owh !"
 
 WHITE FOX 243 
 
 He groaned, and wallowed on the marble squares. The 
 petty-officer saluted and departed with his men. A half- 
 caste Mongol Turcoman, half valet, half interpreter, who 
 had remained in the Embassy throughout the siege, had 
 moved up noiselessly, and stood looking down upon the 
 writhing No. 645 with an inscrutable smile on his yellow 
 face. Then he pointed to the elaborate golden embroideries 
 upon the gorgeous Mandarin's robe with a slender yellow 
 finger. 
 
 " He will go on aching, tell him — the English Tommee — 
 while he goes on wearing that ! Those sailormen would 
 have stolen it, like the other things he speaks of, if some- 
 body had not interpreted to them what is written there.'" 
 
 " Rot !" said a young subaltern of the Royal Deer- 
 shires rather rudely, " tell that to the Marines." 
 
 " There are more things in heaven and — elsewhere, 
 Gregory," said the Captain in command of the Legation 
 garrison, whose name was Graymere, " than they taught 
 fellows like you at Rugby and Sandhurst. Tell us what 
 it is about this robe, Chan Mirz, that causes this man now 
 wearing it to be in pain ?" 
 
 Chan Mirz looked past the Captain with narrow, un- 
 winking eyes. The man on the pavement began to cry 
 out that rats were eating his vitals. 
 
 " It is not rats," said Chan Mirz. " What it is is written 
 there " — and again the thin, delicate, yellow finger, tipped 
 by the long, narrow nail, that ended a full inch beyond it, 
 pointed at the golden Chinese characters thickly embroidered 
 on the wonderful silk of shot and mingled mother-of-pearl, 
 grey, and powder-blue. 
 
 " Read for us, Chan Mirz !" said the Captain. 
 
 Chan Mirz read something like this : 
 
 " Hear, Kwan-Ti ! May the unscrupulous appro- 
 priator of this robe of honour, gloriously bestowed by the 
 Imperial Light of Palaces, the sole mistress of the world,
 
 244 WHITE FOX 
 
 the Empress Tsu-Shi, upon the faithful slave Ho-Fung, 
 Priest of the Taoist Temple, constantly feel in his 
 depraved marrow and sinful liver the avenging tooth of the 
 White Fox ! May he never become the Guest of the 
 Gemmeous Hall and drink tea with the Thousand Ances- 
 tors ! May the dead decline his offerings ! May his son 
 never warm his bed ! May he he like a corpse before 
 death ! May slumber shun his eyelids ! Hear, Kwan-Ti ! 
 Yet, if he repent and restore this robe to the defrauded, or 
 sell it to the blameless for five pieces of gold, or one piece, 
 the tooth of the White Fox shall cease to gnaw him, nor 
 shall the purchaser suffer. Hear, O Kwan-Ti, hear !" 
 
 " The garment is lined with white fox, as your Excellency 
 sees," said Chan Mirz smoothly, " and the white fox, 
 according to the belief of my— of the Chinese people, is 
 a god — or a devil." 
 
 " Shall I order the robe to be taken from him ?" said 
 the Captain, twirling his moustache. 
 
 " I think to take it away would not be wise," said Chan 
 Mirz, " for the teeth of White Fox make no distinction 
 between thief and thief. Let not your Excellency be 
 angry." He joined his palms, and bowed under the 
 Captain's stern, indignant glance. " Buy the garment 
 of him for gold, and doubtless his pains will pass away." 
 
 The Captain turned on his heel and beckoned to the 
 battalion Serjeant-Major. A row of cotton mattresses 
 on the floor of a Legation bath-house did duty for a field- 
 hospital. Here they dumped down No. 645, Company F., 
 gave him a dose prescribed by the doctor, who said it was 
 a case of alcohol-poisoning complicated by rheumatic gout, 
 and left him. His tortured ravings kept the other patients 
 awake all night, but when they argued he grew homicidal, 
 and it was found necessary to sit upon him in relays, until 
 the morning, when his collapsed condition rendered it 
 necessary that the Chaplain should be sent for.
 
 WHITE FOX 245 
 
 " I am sorry to trouble you in the midst of the arduous 
 duties devolving upon you," said the Chaplain to the 
 Captain, " but Jones, No. 645, Company F., has in all 
 human probability but an hour or two to live, and as my 
 efforts to get him into a frame of mind suitable to — arah ! — 
 his present condition have — arah ! — proved unavailing, 
 I should be grateful if your authority could achieve what 
 my exhortations have failed to — arah ! — accomplish." 
 
 The Captain stood by the native mattress and looked 
 down at a blue-white face and a figure twisted as if by 
 strychnine-throes. Over the coverlet the white-fox lined 
 robe of honour had been spread, and claw-like fingers 
 picked at the thick gold embroideries. An impromptu 
 screen divided the pallet of the moribund from the next 
 one, and a hospital orderly resigned his place on an 
 upturned tinned- vegetable case to the commanding 
 officer. 
 
 " Look here, Jones !" said the Captain, " I'm a bad 
 hand at preaching, y'know, but hadn't you better hear 
 what the Chaplain has got to say ? It's what we must 
 all come to, don't you see ? Though I'm afraid we think 
 about it as little as we can." It was odd how he shied at 
 the grim word " death." " And if there is any message 
 you'd like to have sent to your relations " 
 
 " Got none !" said No. 645, with an effort that sent a 
 wave of greenish-white over the clammy face. 
 
 " Or any directions you wish to give me with regard to 
 the disposal of your property ..." 
 
 "Got none!" gasped No. 645. "Got nothin' but a 
 bloomin' rotten Service- kit an' a blighted bad character 
 ... an' this /" 
 
 " This ! . . ." The Captain looked at the white fox robe, 
 and remembered the words of Chan Mirz. If he bought 
 the garment for five pieces of gold, or one piece, would it 
 save the man now, at the eleventh hour ?
 
 246 WHITE FOX 
 
 "Speak to him about his immortal soul," said the 
 Chaplain's eye. The Captain floundered, and blurted 
 out : 
 
 " Look here, Jones, do you want to sell that fur-lined 
 Mandarin's dressing-gown ? Because, if you do . . . I'll 
 give you five pounds for the thing. Think "—he glanced 
 guiltily at the Chaplain — " think how thundering — ahem ! 
 — drunk you could get on five pounds !" 
 
 "Done with you, sir!" gasped the rapidly dissolving 
 Jones. The Captain pulled out a worn little leather 
 money-pouch and told five honest British sovereigns— 
 nearly all the money it contained — into the claw-like 
 hand that clutched them. 
 
 Then he lifted the white fox robe from the sick man's 
 pallet. The form beneath lay strangely still. 
 
 " Heaven forgive you, Captain Graymere, the man is 
 dead !" said the Chaplain. " You sent the miserable 
 sinner before his Maker, sir, with a sordid bargain in his 
 mouth instead of a prayer for mercy. And it is my duty 
 to tell you, as a clergyman, you will answer for this at the 
 Last Day!" As he pointed to the defunct, Jones of 
 Company F. opened his eyes. Then he yawned and sat 
 up, a British private, sound in wind and limb, free from 
 aches and pains, possessed of five golden sovereigns, and 
 an abiding desire to expend the same in drink, if liquor 
 could not be obtained by means less lawful. And the 
 Chaplain shook the dust of the temporary hospital from 
 the soles of his boots, and departed, and the Captain went 
 back to his quarters carrying the Mandarin's robe of white 
 fox fur, and, rolling it up, thrust it into a canvas kit-sack, 
 and forgot it thenceforward utterly. 
 
 The Second Battalion of the Deershire Regiment came 
 back from China in due course, and inhabited the Barracks 
 at Devonpool, vacated in their favour by the First 
 Battalion, which cheered them from the troop-deck of
 
 WHITE FOX 247 
 
 H.M.S. Jubbeh, en route for Hong Kong, even as they 
 steamed into the Straits of Gibraltar, homeward bound. 
 At Plymouth Dockyard the Captain found Mrs. Graymere 
 waiting, and thenceforward reassumed the duties, privi- 
 leges, and responsibilities of a married man. These 
 having only been taken on six months previously to the 
 departure of the Deershires for the East, were new enough 
 to be welcomed joyously. 
 
 " No use hunting through the baggage, pet ; you won't 
 find anything except those Canton carvings and the vases. 
 Soldiers musn't loot nowadays, or I might have . . . but 
 no matter ! Yes, some of the men have got astonishing 
 things stowed away possibly ; but I can't take official 
 cognisance of an offence until it's formally brought to my 
 notice. No, the newspapers didn't exaggerate. There 
 were jars of silver dollars behind the gin-cases in the 
 godowns, and houses full of lacquer ware and brocades 
 and dragon- ware and crackle porcelain. As for the 
 jewellery ... it looks more valuable than it is, owing to a 
 rotten habit the native jewellers have of cutting up diamonds 
 into thin slices. . . . Bad or not, you could have done with 
 a little of it, perhaps ; and if I could have got some for 
 you honestly . . . What have you got there ? Of course, 
 I remember the thing ! . . . a Mandarin's robe I bought from 
 a man who was dying. Yes, it is uncommonly handsome, 
 with all those gold embroideries, and lined, as you see, 
 with white fox fur. I gave the poor devil five pounds for 
 
 it — more than it's worth, possibly, but then " 
 
 " Oh, Ted, white fox, real white fox from North China, 
 is worth its weight in gold !" gasped Mrs. Graymere. She 
 insinuated her slim, svelte figure into the gold-embroidered 
 shimmering silks, shuddering deliciously as the deep, thick, 
 snowy furs enfolded her, and the rich, strange odours of 
 Oriental perfumes wooed her little pink nostrils. " I saw 
 a cape of white fox at the Regent-street Fur Mart, and
 
 243 WHITE' FOX 
 
 they wanted three hundred pounds for it. This must be 
 worth a thousand ! Oh, Ted !" 
 
 She came to Ted, and sat coaxingly upon his knee. 
 She kissed his sunburnt brow, and the thin spot on the 
 top of his martial head, and the tip of his nose, his best 
 feature, and twirled the ends of his moustache until the 
 tears came into his eyes. All these attentions, she said, 
 her Ted deserved for bringing such a lovely present to his 
 darling little wife. Under the Delilah-like caresses Ted 
 found his principles crumbling fast ; it was necessary to 
 be assertive, even brutal in the cause of righteousness. 
 
 " My dear Ethelind " 
 
 " Do call me Linda !" begged Mrs. Graymere. " You 
 only say Ethelinda when you're grumpy." 
 
 " How could I be grumpy to you, darling, when we 
 haven't yet been together for twenty-four hours ?" said 
 Mrs. Graymere's Ted. " But, you see, I can't give you 
 what is not, strictly speaking, mine. Soldiers were not 
 so scrupulous in the old days as they are expected to be 
 now, and my great-grandfather, the old General, who was 
 at the taking of Seringapatam, would have laughed me to 
 scorn, I don't doubt, if he had heard me talk like this. He 
 brought home an emerald agraffe that had belonged to 
 Tippoo Sahib, and a filagree scent-bottle studded with 
 rubies that " 
 
 " It's too late to say I wish I had married your great- 
 grandfather instead of you !" said Mrs. Graymere, pettishly. 
 
 " And it's still early enough to say I won't give you that 
 white fox robe, at least until I have had advice upon the 
 subject, and found out whether I may decently keep it !" 
 said the Captain. 
 
 " Say nothing about it, for Heaven's sake !" screamed 
 little Mrs. Graymere, falling on Ted's neck. " And, if 
 you won't give it to me, you needn't bother. / shall 
 steal it /"
 
 WHITE FOX 249 
 
 She got off her Ted's knee with a decided air, and began 
 to pirouette before the long pier-glass of their hotel bed- 
 room. The morning sunshine played on her shining hair- 
 waves and bathed the white neck and the undulating, 
 supple arms that she poised above her head, in golden 
 radiance. Her slipper flew from her dainty foot as she 
 executed a pas-seul, and the enraptured Teddy retrieved 
 it and knelt to replace it. Then the laughing, flushed face 
 above him was changed, and paled ; and the grey eyes were 
 contracted with sudden pain. 
 
 " Oh, Ted ! Oh, Ted ! Don't touch me ! . . . Horrible, 
 like a knife going through — just here. Ah-h ! There's 
 another. What horrid thing is the matter with me % 
 Like what I've read of . . . rats gnawing prisoners' bones 
 while they're alive. Oh, Ted, help me !" 
 
 Ted did what he could, his brain whirling, and broke 
 the electric bell in ringing for the chamber-maid. When 
 the hastily-summoned doctor arrived he could do no good. 
 His sedatives were like oil upon the flame of little 
 Mrs. Graymere's agonies. At last, when her husband 
 stood by the bedside and looked down upon a grey-blue, 
 livid face, and saw pinched, wandering fingers picking at 
 the gold embroideries of the white fox robe, tardy relief 
 came. 
 
 For the Captain remembered Peking, and Jones of 
 Company F., and Chan Mirz, the half-caste, who had 
 interpreted the gold-embroidered letters. And he dragged 
 forth his sovereign-case and tore out a yellow coin, and 
 crammed it fiercely into one of his wife's wandering hands, 
 and cried : 
 
 " Quick, Linda, darling ! quick, for your own sake ! 
 Say you'll sell me the white fox robe for a sovereign. I — 
 I'm not joking, dear, it's earnest — terrible earnest ! " 
 
 " How . . . can you be ... so silly ?" said little Mrs. 
 Graymere, in a thready whisper. He leaned close to the
 
 250 WHITE FOX 
 
 grey face upon the pillow, and told the Peking story in 
 gasps. She shut her eyes and faintly shook her head. 
 
 " No . . . you'd take it away, and it is so beautiful. . ." 
 
 Her weak voice broke upon the wail. There was in- 
 finite hunger for possession in the dilated eyes. 
 
 " But you'll die — my own, my beloved !" pleaded poor 
 Gray mere desperately. At that the grey grew greyer, 
 but she shut his wretched face out with her dropped 
 eyelids, and would not answer again. 
 
 There came a knock at the bedroom-door. The dis- 
 tracted husband answered it blindly. A regimental 
 orderly from the Barracks stood waiting in the corridor, 
 a yellow official envelope marked " Urgent " in his hand. 
 The man was in full-dress with side-arms, and the Captain, 
 with an unspeakable lifting of the heart, recognized Private 
 Jones, of Company F., as he saluted. 
 
 " From the Adjutant, sir, marked ' Himmediate,' " 
 began Private Jones. Graymere caught him by the 
 shoulder and dragged him into the sick-room. He showed 
 him that face upon the pillow. He told him of the curse 
 translated by Chan Mirz, and begged the man, for pity's 
 sake, to help the saviour of his own life in this desperate 
 extremity. 
 
 " She won't part with that 'ere dressin' - gownd, not 
 if she 'as to die for it." Private Jones's tobacco-stained 
 teeth showed in a grin. " 'Eavens ! Ain't she pluck ! 
 I sold it for money to buy liquor ; but dress is wimmin's 
 drink. 'Ave you the yellow-bird 'andy, sir ?" 
 
 He took the piece of money, and tossed it in his coarse 
 palm as he unhitched the bayonet from his Sam Browne 
 belt, and stepped lightly to the bedside. " We'll 'ave 
 oh the 'lectrics for this 'ere gallanty-show if you've no 
 objection, sir," he said with another grin, " and best for 
 you to keep out o' sight ! She's got to be frightened into 
 doin' wot she 'as to do, an' the sight o' steel and the thought
 
 WHITE FOX 251 
 
 o' blood is wot'll do the trick with 'er ! Stand back, she's 
 openin' her eyes. ..." 
 
 A drop of blood on the point of the glittering steel, just 
 a tiny puncture at the base of the white throat. . . . Then, 
 with hate glittering in her hollow eyes, little Mrs. Graymere 
 gasped out the words that transferred the stolen white 
 fox robe to the soldier, who had unaccountably appeared 
 from nowhere and threatened to murder her if she did not 
 sell it to him for the ridiculously inadequate sum of a 
 sovereign. All the time she believed herself to be delirious, 
 but the apparition of this savage man in khaki, with the 
 horrible, needle-pointed, triangular weapon, was not to 
 be endured. She took the sovereign he thrust upon her, 
 believing it to be a dream-coin-Hao more real than the 
 hand that gave it. Then the ghastly pains ceased, and 
 she fell into a blessed sleep. 
 
 " Go now before I kill you !" said the Captain hoarsely 
 to Jones of Company F., " and take this cursed thing 
 with you." He pointed to the white fox robe, and Jones 
 of Company i<'. obeyed. 
 
 The sunshine of another morning was gilding the edges 
 of the blinds when little Mrs. Graymere awakened. Her 
 Ted's face was bending over her, strangely haggard and 
 drawn. And she had forgotten the white fox robe and 
 the events of yesterday, which was for her as though it 
 had never been. 
 
 " Good patience ! my dear boy, you're up and dressed 
 already. ... I must have slept like the Seven Thingum- 
 bobs. Don't tell me if I snored ! I feel as fresh as a 
 daisy, anyhow, and you ..." With the tip of her finger 
 she touched her husband's chin, upon which an un- 
 mistakable growth of bristles marked the lapse of time. 
 " Gracious ! you've forgotten to shave. Go and do it at 
 once !" she ordered, and he kissed her and went obediently. 
 ' I've had the most awful, extraordinary, realish dream,"
 
 252 WHITE FOX 
 
 she called after him, " but you can't hear it until after 
 breakfast, because to tell a dream fasting means that it 
 will come true ! . . ." 
 
 "All right, dear! ... all right!" said the Captain 
 nervously. At breakfast she appeared at her brightest in 
 a lovely new blouse, cut just a little square. And in the 
 hollow at the base of the white throat, showing between 
 the coils of a thin gold chain, there was a tiny crimson 
 speck. She felt his eyes upon it, and put up her hand. 
 
 " Dreams are such odd things," she said. " Mine was 
 about a soldier, who stood over me as I lay in bed, with 
 a drawn bayonet. I even felt the point of it touch my 
 throat ; and, do you know " — she put up her hand to the 
 place — " there is actually a tiny mark there this morning. 
 I must have scratched it with a brooch-pin." Ted knew 
 better, but he did not say so. For ever, his lips were 
 sealed. . . .
 
 XX 
 
 REALIZATION 
 
 They were engaged at last — had reached the long-desired 
 goal of open betrothal, after an unusually rough course, 
 even for true lovers. Parents on one side, guardians upon 
 the other, had objected to the disposal, on the part of these 
 rather mature young people, of their own affections ! A 
 jealous suitor of Lady Laura's had carried out a little 
 plot for making things difficult for the Senior Lieutenant, 
 and a green-eyed lady — who, of course, should have 
 known better, being married to the Lieutenant's com- 
 manding officer — had got her late admirer into double- 
 extra hot water, while Fortune and Fate had contrived 
 to pile obstacles in the path. Thus the Lieutenant had 
 invested a considerable portion of his capital — " just large 
 enough, considered as capital, to make a man feel himself 
 a pauper," to quote its owner — in South African mining 
 shares only partially covered, before the war broke out. 
 And one of the trustees on Lady Laura's side, a grave, 
 middle-aged, and virtuous legal widower, with a sensitive 
 conscience, a reputation for philanthropy, and a small 
 family, had proved the existence of an unsuspected code 
 of romance in his singularly commonplace individuality 
 bj r realizing a passion for a fascinating serio-comic singer 
 together with a considerable amount of cash from stock 
 belonging to his clients, and departing into dim con- 
 jectural regions, beyond the reach of Scotland Yard, with 
 the beauty and the bullion. 
 And now the breakers were passed, the lovers' battered 
 
 253
 
 254 REALIZATION 
 
 boat had glided safely to the sunny sands of Certainty. 
 No more suspense — all sureness. No more amatory 
 plotting — everything plain ! No more dropping of furtive 
 letters into alien post-office slits ; no more hasty, heavenly 
 assignations in Aerated Bread shops and picture-galleries ; 
 no more primitive sign-correspondence, as in the days of 
 Early Man ; no more clandestine kissing in corners ; no 
 more hidden hand-squeezing ; no more of the things that 
 had made the courtship — prolonged over a period of years 
 — delightful. Lady Laura and the Senior Lieutenant were 
 henceforward to find plain sailing for the yacht of their 
 affections. The Lieutenant had, through the deaths — 
 sudden and unexpected — of about six relatives with whom 
 he had been upon the merest hand-shaking terms, come 
 into a considerable amount of money and a title. Not 
 much of a title — only a baronetcy of the Trafalgar year — 
 but sufficient to save Lady Laura, who was the only 
 daughter of an impoverished peer, from the reproach of 
 having married a mister. And her relatives in consequence 
 had magnanimously extended the happy hand to the 
 Senior Lieutenant. Add to this that the jealous suitor, 
 who had made mischief, was now married to a Scotch 
 toffee-maker's widow — add to that that the green-eyed 
 married lady, whose jealousy had embroiled the Senior 
 Lieutenant, was now properly divorced and had entered 
 an Anglican Sisterhood, the habit of which was unusually 
 becoming, under the religious title of Sister Arnica of the 
 Angels — and draw from the premises the conclusion that 
 Lady Laura and the Senior Lieutenant were in the seventh 
 heaven of happiness. 
 
 Conclusions, I warn you, are not always correct. When 
 a vivid interest has been shorn from life, life afterwards 
 is apt to fall exceedingly flat. When to the raptures of 
 righteous affection of the kind whose Cupid-bow is strung 
 with legal red tape, and whose roses seek nothing better
 
 REALIZATION 255 
 
 than to bloom under the auspices of the Church, are added 
 the joys of intrigue ; the mixture, as a sauce to the cold 
 mutton of existence, beats ketchup or picallili. And Lady 
 Laura and the Lieutenant, who was going to retire on his 
 brevet in a month or so, had got used to sauce. Their 
 palates required the stimulant. 
 
 To-day, for the first time for years, the Lieutenant had 
 not received at his Jermyn Street chambers a little note 
 in Lady Laura's handwriting containing the countersign 
 for the day. 
 
 " Dearest," it used to begin, " I am to be dragged by 
 Constantia to McNaughten's to look at enamels 12 p.m. 
 We lunch at Prince's 1.30, do a matinee at the Such-and-Such 
 2.30, and drink our four o'clock at a quarter to six in the 
 outer room at the Tea Hole, Exel Street, Regent Street. 
 If my own dear cared to steal a little peep at his poor 
 Lollie ! Ever my own's — L." 
 
 And unless regimental duties seriously interfered, the 
 Senior Lieutenant would drop in at several of these places, 
 to his Lollie's blushingly conscious rapture and Constantia's 
 high-nosed, double-chinned disgust. Constantia would 
 not have dreamed of scowling at him now ; the terrors of 
 her nose, the awe-inspiring influences of her chin, were 
 things of the past to Senior Lieutenant Sir Peter Fclpaugh 
 of the King's Own Lifers. He was to lunch at Hanover 
 Square to-day — with Laura. He was to go out shopping — 
 with Laura ; attend a matinee — with Laura, and take her 
 to the Tea Hole afterwards ! He was thirty-three, and 
 Laura, was, of course, much less than that, though not so 
 very far behind him. 
 
 He was a slight man, with bright, wistful brown eyes, 
 a long straight moustache, a big head and a bigger heart. 
 Laura was primrose-coloured as to her hair, and grey as 
 to her eyes, with a complexion of the fashionable mauve. 
 He had never known until this morning, when his fiancee
 
 256 REALIZATION 
 
 received him in the vast, solemn drawing-room at Hanover 
 Square, that Laura was no longer a girl. Laura had never 
 observed that Peter's head was too big for his slight, weedy 
 body until now. There was the remembrance of that 
 slight but unpleasant shock of discovery between them 
 as they went down to luncheon. Laura's mother was 
 there ; a sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued, little old lady, who 
 had planted many a thorn in Sir Peter's amatory path. 
 She greeted him now with effusion, and remembered that 
 he liked cayenne with his soup ! Laura sat opposite ; 
 there was no need to exchange furtive glances, no necessity 
 to resort to the secret masonry of the boot-toe and slipper- 
 tip. Before the cutlets Constantia came bustling in. 
 She was all smiles as she gave her hand to Sir Peter. He 
 could have had both of them if he had been greedy, he 
 knew. 
 
 " Laura and Sir Peter have planned a long day to- 
 gether," Laura's mother said, so benevolently . 
 
 " How nice for you both !" cried Constantia, with 
 beaming geniality. " By the way," she added, focussing 
 her smile on Sir Peter, " Mallison sent you his best con- 
 gratulations. He wants to know if you would care for 
 a couple of his Clumber spaniels ? If so, he would send 
 you a pair of yearling puppies from Binksleigh." 
 
 Sir Peter muttered something, conscious as he was that 
 Mallison — Constantia's husband — had invariably, for several 
 years past, looked the other way when they met, and 
 referred to him behind his back, and more than once before 
 his face, as " that fellow !" Laura's light grey eyes opened 
 wide — rather with pain than pleasure, it seemed to Peter. 
 Before luncheon was quite over Peggy Prideaux, Laura's 
 bosom friend and ally all through the stormy period of 
 Laura's courtship, bounced in. Peggy was an untidy, 
 emotional, middle-aged girl, whom Peter had found in- 
 valuable as a post-office and message-repository. En-
 
 REALIZATION 257 
 
 haloed with indispensability, Peggy had of yore appeared 
 quite lovely in Peter's view. To-day she seemed old, un- 
 attractive, and an emotional bore. Her unpretty eyes, 
 of the beady-brown description, kept filling with joyful 
 tears as she regarded her idol Laura on the pinnacle of 
 happiness ; and Peter, as acknowledged owner of the 
 idol, found himself regarding it in a calmer and more 
 critical spirit than he could have wished. After luncheon 
 Laura and Peter found themselves alone together in the 
 large, yellow - brocaded, sandalwood - smelling drawing- 
 room. 
 
 " Aren't you coming, Constantia ?" Laura had said to 
 her sister-in-law, almost with an accent of appeal. 
 
 " No, dear ! You will get on very well without me, 
 I dare say," Constantia had replied with ponderous arch- 
 ness. Who had ever seen Constantia arch before ? 
 
 "Aren't you coming V Peter whispered, in an alarmed 
 kind of way, as Peggy held out her hand to him. He quite 
 held on to th^ hand in his anxiety. 
 
 " No, dear Sir Peter," Peggy whispered baok, with the 
 damp eyelids and the reddened nose of the emotional 
 rejoicer. " I wouldn't spoil it — your first — for the world !" 
 And she nodded and becked from the hall, as Peter went 
 wearily upstairs in his Laura's wake, wondering why the 
 dickens he was not as happy as he had expected ? 
 
 Soon he found himself sitting on the edge of a large, 
 cold, springy sofa at the bleak end of the yellow drawing- 
 room, while Laura regarded him from a rocking-chair near 
 the fire. There was a little high-backed William and 
 Mary settee — a kind of armchair, big enough to hold two 
 people who preferred sitting in one another's pockets. 
 It stood, empty, within a comfortable distance of the 
 hearthrug. Times out of number had Laura dreamed of 
 sitting in that settee with Peter ; upon scores of occasions 
 had Peter intrigued to sit in it with Laura, and failed, 
 
 17
 
 258 REALIZATION 
 
 owing to the unhallowed acumen of Laura's relations, the 
 frightful vigilance of Laura's friends, with the sole ex- 
 ception of the sentimental Peggy. Peter, you see, could 
 call Peggy " sentimental " now. And the time had come, 
 the opportunity had arrived, and neither Peter nor Laura 
 availed themselves of it. 
 
 There was a long, frigid pause. Laura lay back in the 
 rocking-chair. She had eaten a very good lunch, much to 
 her own surprise, for with an accepted, acknowledged Peter 
 opposite she had felt that soup would be suporerogatory, 
 and cutlets out of the question. She glanced at Peter, 
 and his head seemed unusually large. She spoke, in a 
 still small voice, of some subject of tepid interest which 
 had been threshed out in the newspapers for days. 
 
 Peter feebly dashed into the subject. He had dallied 
 with it for some little time, when he observed Laura's 
 features agitated by a slight convulsion. Poor Laura ! 
 Was she disappointed at his neglecting to avail himself 
 of the amatory opportunities so lavishly scattered in his 
 path ? He looked timidly in the direction of the double 
 settee, then back at his betrothed. Ah ! she was yawning ! 
 yawning lavishly and unrestrainedly behind her sheltering 
 palm. The infection seized upon Peter, and Peter yawned 
 too. 
 
 " Catching, isn't it ?" Laura said, and tittered. There 
 had always been melody in those little laughs of hers 
 before to-day. But Peter was grateful for the titter. 
 It broke the ice, and he got up and went over and stood 
 upon the hearthrug, quite like a husband, his back to the 
 fire, and his brown eyes considering his beloved. 
 
 "Well, dear, we've got through!" he said, in the tone 
 a husband might have used in referring to the crush in 
 the Haj'market vestibule on the first night of a new play. 
 
 " Yes," agreed Laura, " we've got through !" 
 
 There was a perceptible lack of enthusiasm in her tone,
 
 REALIZATION 259 
 
 and her light grey eyes looked vaguely tearful. Peter 
 had another shot. 
 
 " I never expected we should do it. It has been uphill 
 work ! collar all the way I" He pulled his moustache, and 
 it seemed to him that he had not said the psychologically- 
 appropriate thing. 
 
 ' We have waited — an awfully long time !" Laura 
 returned, with a slight accent of wonder that seemed to 
 add: "Why, if for this?" 
 
 ' They were all," said Sir Peter, carefully feeling his 
 moustache, " so much against the match, weren't they ?" 
 
 " I used to think them so unreasonable and so cruel," 
 Laura said, rather as if she had changed her opinion. 
 
 : ' I was poor, of course !" Peter observed. 
 
 " If you think my relations were actuated by no motives 
 other than mercenary ones," retorted Laura sharply, " you 
 do them an injustice !" She had never stood up for her 
 relations before, Peter being invariably the allowance- 
 maker and excuser. " I cannot stand by " 
 
 "Sit by," corrected Peter, pettishly adding : " Why are 
 women so loose and inacourate in their statements ?" Never 
 had he numbered Laura with the concrete mass of her 
 sex before. Never had he condemned her by action, 
 judged her even by a look. 
 
 Laura felt it. Her nose wrinkled in the preparatory 
 spasm incidental to tears. Peter wished it wouldn't. 
 She produced a little foolish handerchief, more adapted 
 in size to the tiny provoking nez retrousse of the heroine 
 of a society novel than a prominent organ of the Roman 
 stylo of architecture. She had cried about Peter and for 
 Peter on and off, turn about, for years. Now Peter had 
 made her cry ! She was dismally conscious of a change. 
 She achieved the first choking gulp, dropped the first tear, 
 and then Peter came over to her side. 
 
 " My dear Laura, what is there to cry about % Are
 
 260 REALIZATION 
 
 you wounded because I said that women, as a rule, are 
 inaccurate in their speech V 
 
 He bent over Laura with a caressing manner, not un- 
 tinged with patronage, and kissed her hand. As he did 
 so the eye of Laura fastened on the thin place in his hair, 
 right on the crown, the sensitive spot of man advancing 
 to middle-age. Also she noted grey hairs in his moustache 
 and crow's-feet in the corners of his eyes. She had 
 previously grasped the fact that Peter's head was too 
 large. Now she realized, as Peter released her hand and 
 walked back to his old place upon the hearthrug, that his 
 legs were weedy, would always be, and had always been 
 so, and might become weedier yet in years to come. . . . 
 Suddenly composed, she rose, and, glancing at her watch, 
 asked him to look at the Lady's Dictatorial for ten seconds 
 while she put on her hat. . . . She was half-an-hour putting 
 on that hat, while Peter chafed in the yellow drawing-room. 
 He was pacing up and down the hall when she descended, 
 fully arrayed. 
 
 It was too late to do any shopping before going to the 
 theatre to see The Coster Girl, so Laura only looked in at 
 a shoemaker's in Wigmore Street and a milliner's in Old 
 Bond Street, and gave some directions at her tailor's 
 about the braiding of a white cloth oape. It was a very 
 particular cape — the going-away cape, in fact ; for Laura 
 had already begun to order her wedding garments, and 
 much time was taken up by it, while Peter kicked his 
 heels upon monogrammed mats, and inwardly said things 
 
 beginning, "Why are women " or "Why do 
 
 women " or " How women can " They were all 
 
 in his face when he saw Laura again, and she read them 
 there, but had no inclination to cry. You can't, you 
 know, with a spangled veil on : the spangles are only 
 glued ! 
 
 " We shall miss half the first act of The Coster Girl.
 
 REALIZATION 261 
 
 Taxi !" shouted Peter, hailing a smart machine with his 
 stick. Now, for reasons dimly connected with a desire for 
 amatory privacy, Peter and Laura had hitherto patronized 
 four-wheelers. And at the instant of Peter's hailing the 
 taxi, Laura had signalled with her umbrella to the red- 
 nosed driver of a venerable cab. Result, that both 
 equipages collided at the kerb, and Peter found his 
 temper again endangered. 
 
 " Do you really prefer this thing ? . . . Of course, if 
 you think we have time to spare ! . . ." He paid off the 
 driver of the smart taxi, and resignedly assisted Laura 
 into the reposeful relic, once presumably a brougham, 
 whose depressed steed glanced round his blinker in a 
 protesting way, as though exclaiming : " Two of 'em ! 
 And only a shilling fare !" 
 
 And they trundled away to the Jollity Theatre. All the 
 way, though Laura uttered nothings aloud, she was saying 
 somethings, inwardly, about men. " Just like all men !" 
 or " So like a man 1" or " Did I ever dream he was that 
 kind of man ?" ending up : " If I had dreamed he was that 
 
 kind of man " And all the things she mentally said 
 
 were stereotyped in her face, and Peter sat on the rickety 
 front seat and wondered why he had suddenly discovered 
 it wasn't a face worth dying for ! 
 
 The Coster Girl had progressed nearly to the end of the 
 first act when Peter and his betrothed made their progress, 
 over rows of throbbing toes, to the centre of the stalls. 
 Laura swept a matinee hat from its moorings, while Peter 
 fell over an umbrella, and was called an upstart by an 
 irascible old lady whose proportions prohibited the idea 
 of passing her. At last Peter and his beloved settled down, 
 but it was only just as the act-drop did ; and Peter found 
 himself yawning again as he realized that there were ten 
 minutes to spend before the curtain went up again. 
 Formerly, if placed next to Laura, he would have hailed
 
 262 REALIZATION 
 
 the prospect with rapture. Formerly, how passionately 
 he had inclined to the Lyceum school of drama, with its 
 long waits, its pauses of shadow, its orchestrated intervals 
 of utter darkness, favourable for the squeezing of hands, 
 even the encircling of waists ! . . . Dutifully he turned to 
 Laura. Laura was not even looking at him. She was 
 studying backs, and horribly bored. Then she glanced up 
 at the boxes overhead, and her expression changed and 
 became animated as Peter recognized a familiar face, old, 
 haggard, beaky, furnished with fierce eyes, generally 
 screened by large spectacles, hovering above the red plush 
 elbow-ledge. 
 
 " Your Aunt Mordred !" he said. 
 
 "Dear me!" whispered Laura, "so it is!" And just 
 how the aged lady came to be present in a box at The 
 Coster Girl, a class of entertainment denounced by her as 
 damnatory and disgusting, cannot be explained. "She 
 is scowling furiously," Laura added, in an undertone. 
 " Don't you suppose she knows ?" 
 
 " She is beokoning to us to come up," said Peter, as 
 Lady Mordred's prehistoric black bonnet wagged, and 
 her shrunken, black-kidded finger beckoned sternly to 
 Laura. 
 
 " I'm afraid," said Peter's beloved, " she doesn't mean 
 you/" and the full-flavoured scowl directed at Peter by 
 the old lady bore out the truth of Laura's observation. 
 Indeed, Lady Mordred was at that moment bestowing the 
 title of " unmitigated rascal " on her niece's betrothed. 
 She had always waged bitter war against Peter ; nobody 
 had been able to explain to her, through her terrible 
 trumpet, why Peter was no longer objectionable, and the 
 reasons that had filtered through that medium Lady 
 Mordred considered none. 
 
 " Come up, come up !" her nodding old bonnet and her 
 wagging old finger commanded.
 
 REALIZATION 263 
 
 Laura rose meekly and squeezed out of the stalls, 
 followed by Peter, who was oonscious of a return of the 
 desire to follow in the wake of her well-known, erstwhile 
 too-familiar form. 
 
 So the couple went up and knocked at Lady Mordred's 
 box, and responded to the grunt that bade them enter. 
 
 " Dear aunt, how kind of you to call us !" cried Lady 
 Laura, bestowing the peck of cool kinship upon the leather- 
 purse-like cheek offered her by the venerable lady. 
 
 " I saw you disgracing yourself and your family down 
 there in the stalls," snorted Lady Mordred, " and I said 
 to Johnson " — she indicated the limp, drab figure of her 
 companion — "'Johnson, what am I to do?' 'Tell her 
 ladyship to come up !' said Johnson — the only sensible 
 remark she's made in a year — and I did. Sit down !" 
 She pushed a chair forward for Laura, and turned a malevo- 
 lent look on Peter. " What's that man doing here ? 
 Send him away — send him away at once ! Why don't 
 you, you little fool V She profferod her trumpet and 
 waited for a reply. 
 
 ' Dear Aunt," cried Lady Laura, into the dark recesses 
 of the instrument, " I cannot do anything of the kind ! 
 We " 
 
 " Mind ! Let him mind if he likes. Who's he, a beggarly 
 soldier, that my niece should be at his beck and call V 
 grunted Lady Mordred. 
 
 Tingling with indignation, Peter stepped forwards. The 
 trumpet yawned at him — he shouted into it the information 
 that where Lady Mordred's niece was, he, Peter, had the 
 undoubted right to bo ; that with the consent of Lady 
 Laura's family they were formally engaged. 
 
 ' Horribly enraged !' Anyone would be, to see her own 
 flesh and blood, the daughter of hor own brother, thrown 
 away on a nobody !" said Lady Mordred, one of whose 
 most unlovable peculiarities consisted in the uncom-
 
 264 REALIZATION 
 
 promising plainness of her speech. " ' Consent ' . . . Never, 
 while I live ! and if my niece has any desire to profit by 
 my will " 
 
 " S'sh !" cried voices from the pit and gallery, as the 
 curtain went up on the second act. 
 
 Peter retired to the back of the box, where he could see 
 nothing but the silhouette of Lady Mordred's ancient 
 Sibylline profile, the back view of Laura's towering hat, 
 the coils of Laura's hair. . . . Oddly enough, he was 
 contented with the view. Opposition had awakened the 
 passion lulled to sleep by the anodyne of security — he 
 asked nothing better of Fate than to look at the back of 
 Laura's head and know that her heart was his. In a dark 
 interval during a change of scene, he murmured the word 
 " Darling " in her ear, he prisoned her hand ; her return 
 pressure sent new life tingling through his veins. . . . 
 
 " We'll run away from my aunt when we've put her into 
 her carriage, won't we, pet ?" Laura whispered, and Peter 
 found himself answering rapturously : " My own, we will J" 
 
 They did it as they had planned. Peter hailed a four- 
 wheeler, assisted Laura to her seat, and sprang in after 
 her with the manner of Young Lochinvar. 
 
 " Aunt Mordred will never be reconciled to my marrying 
 you," sighed Laura, as her lover kissed her. " To her 
 dying day she will keep the grudge alive !" 
 
 " Yes. I think — indeed, I am sure," said Peter, " that 
 I have a life-long enemy in her !" 
 
 " It seems so odd and incomprehensible," said Laura, 
 with the little laugh that Peter had only that day mentally 
 stigmatized as a titter, " that anybody should hate you /" 
 
 The remainder of the sentence was impeded and remained 
 unfinished, and a few minutes later : 
 
 " Hanover Square !" said Peter. 
 
 " Oh, he has driven us to the very door !" cried Lady 
 Laura, in a flutter. " Suppose Constantia should be
 
 REALIZATION 265 
 
 looking out of the drawing-room window ?" she added 
 nervously. 
 
 " It doesn't matter if she is 1" said Peter, with a feeling 
 of being damped. 
 
 Laura's face fell. 
 
 " Of course, it doesn't matter !" Her manner was bored 
 and listless again. " Will you come in ?" she said, without 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 " Thanks, no !" said Peter, his thoughts yearning towards 
 Pall Mall. " I promised to meet a man at the Club !" 
 
 He took off his hat, and Laura went up the steps and 
 into the house. 
 
 " See you to-morrow," she said, turning on the door- 
 step with a vague smile, a half -formed wave of the hand. 
 
 Peter knew she would see him — knew he should see her, 
 that there was no exhilarating uncertainty, no delightful 
 doubt about it. He bowed his big head upon his breast, 
 and went away despondently in the direction of Pall Mall.
 
 XXI 
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 I 
 
 Jimmy Meggatt had run up North with his chuui Wade 
 for a fortnight's May-fly fishing in the Speed. His twenty- 
 first birthday, occurring upon the last day of this im- 
 promptu vacation, broke in a Scotch drizzle. He leaned 
 out from the window of his bedroom at the Quern House 
 into a green gloom perpendicularly laced with silver rain. 
 For a wood of ancient oaks and beeches, firs, birches, and 
 bird-cherries mustered close about the antique dwelling. 
 Blackbirds were shouting to each other from tree to tree, 
 triumphing over the wicked east wind that had laid by 
 its scourges, predicting sunshine presently, promising ripe 
 cherries at the end of June. A thrush, solitary, outlawed, 
 and despondent, on the outskirts of the wood, kept calling, 
 complaining, insisting upon one name, and that not a 
 bird's. 
 
 " Cissy Wade, Cissy Wade !" with eager, tremulous 
 entreaty. " Cissy Wa-a-a-de !" with the utmost sweetness 
 of which bud-bill and bird-throat were capable, tenderly 
 coaxing, suasively prolonged, dying out at length in sheer 
 despair of Cissy's ever coming ; then, after a disconsolate 
 pause, three rallying notes, sharp and metallic as the 
 " tack-tack-tack " of steel meeting flint . . . then the whole 
 performance over again. 
 
 There was nothing remarkable or extraordinary to Jimmy 
 in the infatuation of the bird ; its tone as of hopeless rivalry 
 was really flattering to a young man who had walked in 
 
 266 
 
 I
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 267 
 
 the old walled garden of the Quern House with Miss Cissy 
 for a fortnight of enchanted evenings, whose glory and 
 glamour deepened with every sunset, culminating upon 
 the previous night in declaration upon Jimmy's part, con- 
 fession upon Cissy's, and a psycho-alchemical process 
 which both young people confidently believed to be the 
 fusion of two souls into one. 
 
 Cissy's eyes and cheeks were divinely conscious as Jimmy, 
 well-tubbed, well-dressed, well-mannered, well-looking, 
 after the fashion of a youth who has been bred to the 
 healthful exercise of his muscles in outdoor sports, and 
 has had his classics and mathematics knocked into him at 
 a public school, took his place at Mrs. Wade's breakfast- 
 table. Two letters were delivered to him in the course 
 of the meal. One was directed in the small, aggressively 
 clear, business handwriting of Mr. Bastock, Jimmy's 
 guardian. The other envelope, a large, thin, square one, 
 displayed the gigantic penmanship which Jimmy had been 
 brought up to associate with the idea of his father. Colonel 
 Meggatt's letter was dated from Paris — envelope and 
 paper bore the address of one of the more exclusive hotels. 
 The exigencies of the story require that the epistle should 
 be quoted in its entirety — 
 
 "Hotel Oosmopolitain, 
 " May 24th. 
 " My dear Son, 
 
 " On the day this reaches you, you will, please 
 Almighty God, have reached your twenty-first year, to 
 which anaversary " [Colonel Meggatt was not at all times 
 an accurate speller] " your mother and myself have looked 
 forward with anxiaty for many years. We have been 
 proud to receave from our good friend, Mr. Bastock, as 
 from your own hand, such excallent reports of your progress, 
 since you left Harrow, in the study of your chosen pro- 
 fession, though your mother and myself unite in hoping
 
 268 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 that you will not overdo it in reading for the Bar, as no 
 good can ever be expected from overtaxing a young man's 
 brain. We are happy and gratafied to hear that the 
 cellabrated solicittor, Mr. Pawley Wotherspoon, who, you 
 tell us, is preparing you for admission to the Inns of Court, 
 has expressed a good apinion of your qualafacations for 
 the law, and send by Parcel-Post, duty paid, for his 
 acceptance four boxes of choice Havana cigars (out of 
 a dozen graciously presented to me by His Excallency the 
 Presdent of the Republic of France, to whom your mother 
 and I had the honour to be prasented a few evenings back). 
 Now I will cloase, my dear son, with the most warmly 
 affexionate birthday wishes from your mother and myself. 
 It is our wish that you should go up to town and see 
 Mr. Bastock (who up to now has held your money-affairs 
 in charge and controalled your expenditure). Being of full 
 age, funds will now be placed in your own hands, and we 
 hope you will employ them to advantage. Further, there 
 are some famaly matters which you are now intitaled to 
 know. With regard to these, you will be left to your 
 own discretion as regards future steps, and you may rest 
 assured that neathor your mother nor myself will ever 
 reproach you if those steps should take you away from 
 us. Whatever your ultamate docision may be, we are 
 prepared to abide by it. Whatever your ultamate decision 
 may be, we are 'prepared to abide by it ! My dear son, I 
 re mane your affexionate father, 
 
 " Peter J. Meggatt. 
 " P.S. — Your mother sends her fondest love." 
 
 II 
 
 Young James Meggatt had never seen his parents, in the 
 flesh or in counterfeit representment. As, to his knowledge, 
 he possessed no other living relatives, he was acquainted
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 269 
 
 with but one human being who might authoritatively 
 claim familiarity with Colonel and Mrs. Meggatt, and that 
 person had never been communicative on the subject. 
 
 Mr. Bastock, Jimmy's guardian, who up to the present 
 had held his affairs in charge and regulated his expenditure 
 — to quote again from the Colonel's letter — was a small, 
 dry, close-shaven man with keen eyes, a remarkably mobile 
 countenance, and a singularly wearied skin, which obeyed 
 the vivid play of his facial muscles as though unwilling 
 to take part in a performance. His manner was curt, 
 though not uncourteous ; a continual pressure of business 
 preoccupied his eye and curtailed his conversations with 
 his ward. He occupied an office in a street leading Thames- 
 ward from the Strand, and Jimmy knew him, from a brief 
 printed legend heading his correspondence, to be the 
 London agent and business-representative of a syndicate 
 of American capitalists, whose principal ventures were in 
 connection with places of public entertainment in every 
 quarter of the civilized world. 
 
 Only in Jimmy's very early recolleotions Mr. Bastock 
 had not appeared in the strict business relations which 
 afterwards he assumed towards his ward. When Jimmy 
 was a very tiny Jimmy indeed, and lived, with several 
 other boys and girls, in the house of a kindly elderly lady 
 who dwelt at Margate — Margate of sand-castle and donkey- 
 riding memories ! — Mr. Bastock used regularly to come 
 down once a month to judge for himself of the boy's mental 
 and physical growth. In those days Jimmy had been wont 
 to regard him as a benevolent sorcerer whose pockets 
 contained most of the things in which small boys delight, 
 had shrieked with laughter at his funny songs and stories, 
 the fun of which was deliciously enhanced by Mr. Bastock's 
 weird, but enviable power of changing his face and altering 
 his voice into the face or voice of any man, woman, or 
 animal he chose to represent. But, as his ward grew older
 
 270 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 and bigger — old enough and big enough at eight to be 
 sent to board at the house of a clerical tutor at Canterbury, 
 in preparation for the twelfth birthday which should 
 qualify him for election as a pupil of Harrow School, Mr. 
 Bastock retired into himself, and was never thencefor- 
 ward seen by his ward or his ward's preceptors in any 
 character but that of a grey, reserved, business-like little 
 man. But fitful fancies would occur to Jimmy ; and on 
 occasions, when his guardian would be gravely discoursing 
 with his tutor — once, when Mr. Bastock was engaged in 
 seemly conversation with the Doctor himself — the boy 
 caught himself wondering whether the versatility that 
 could imitate to the life a monkey, or a costermonger, or 
 an old Irishwoman, or anything else that Mr. Bastock 
 chose, was at the bottom of his looking and speaking at 
 that moment so very like a Headmaster and D.D., and 
 in effect, whether Mr. Bastook was acting and knew it ? 
 or whether without knowing it Mr. Bastock was acting ? 
 
 Jimmy was happy at Harrow ; he had been sent there to 
 get a good tone, and he got it — to make friends, and he 
 made them. He developed, not into an athlete or a 
 genius, but into a pleasant, well-bred young fellow, with 
 a soft voice, silky brown hair, and clear eyes, and a well- 
 knit frame which was rather slight than muscular. He 
 left Harrow without having achieved a dazzling reputation 
 for scholarship, it is true ; but he was fairly grounded in 
 history and classics, and what was fondly termed by 
 admiring friends a " dab " in English Literature, and, 
 when given his choice of a profession, he gave the prefer- 
 ence to the Bar. Ho was reading now for his final ex- 
 animation with Mr. Pawley Wotherspoon, who was a friend 
 of Mr. Bastock's — in his quiet, unobtrusive way, Bastock 
 seemed to know everybody ! Most of the litigations in 
 which Mr. Pawley Wotherspoon was concerned were 
 theatrical cases ; he was one of the few living legal authori-
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 271 
 
 ties capable — according to Mr. Bastock — of advising on 
 matters connected with dramatic copyright, and there was 
 a story floating about the Inns to the effect that he had 
 once been an actor ; and that Mrs. Paw ley Wotherspoon 
 had, in the later fifties, figured in the fringed trunks, 
 silken fleshings, and side-spring boots inseparable from 
 opera bouffe. 
 
 It is not to be assumed that Jimmy had ever been neg- 
 lected by the parents who so plainly preferred to delegate 
 their duties to salaried representatives. Much money had 
 been spent, and spent wisely, upon him. No anniversary 
 dear to childhood or anticipated by youth had ever gone hy 
 unmarked by an affectionate letter in the colossal hand- 
 writing of the Colonel, dated from one or other of the 
 capitals of the world, the spelling as varied and quaint 
 as the stamp and postmark, but breathing through its 
 quaint, homely phrases and continual repetitions, sentiments 
 of unmistakable tenderness, solicitude, and paternal pride. 
 Mrs. Megg°tt never wrote ; but messages from her and 
 presents from her were never wanting. 
 
 Jimmy had conceived an idea of his mother as a tall, 
 pale, brown-haired lady, faded by foreign suns, invariably 
 attired in highly-coloured, trailing silks, profuse in the 
 detail of jewellery — the studs, watches, rings, and other 
 things she had sent her son from time to time were absurdly 
 costly — invalidish, kindly, perhaps a little affected, perhaps 
 a little made-up. His father ho could see whenever he 
 chose to shut his eyes and summon up the vision : tall, 
 stout, loose- jointed, large-featured, double-chinned ; san- 
 guine of complexion and loud of voice, as the English- 
 speaking tourist usually is. He would be baldish, with 
 a red nape to his neck, and snow-white whiskers which 
 would stick out assertively over a collar of the Gladstone 
 type. His eyes were undoubtedly grey-blue, some shades 
 paler than Jimmy's. He possessed quantities of waist-
 
 272 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 coats, all composed of materials suitable for wear in hot 
 climates ; was given to the wearing of alpaca coats and 
 shepherd's-plaid trousers, and faddish in the matter of 
 costly Panama hats and expensive cigars. He was under- 
 educated, that was plain, and of a simple nature. And 
 he spent his life in travelling from foreign capital to foreign 
 capital, was personally acquainted with every Crowned 
 Head in Europe, and received complimentary presents 
 from them, as well as boxes of rare Havanas from Presidents 
 of Republics ! He made statements of the above kind 
 frequently, simply, and without the slightest bombast. 
 They came in in the middle or near the end of the Colonel's 
 letters, naturally and as events of habitual occurrence, 
 but as invariably as the head of King Charles was wont 
 to crop up in the manuscripts of Mr. Dick. . . . Jimmy had 
 had his dark hours of haunting doubt and suspicion, when 
 he would wonder whether, after all, his father might not 
 be a little — say, liable to delusions, which necessitated 
 constant change of air and scene in the interests of the 
 sufferer ? But, unable to endure these dark conjectures, 
 he had hinted of their existence in one of his half-yearly 
 interviews with Mr. Bastock, who infringed his usual rule 
 of non-responsiveness to direct questions by electrically 
 volting out an answer that effectually banished Jimmy's 
 bogies. " Mad ! Your father ! . . . No more than you 
 or me, or the Archbishop of Canterbury ! And your 
 mother is as sensible a woman as ever drew breath !" 
 But more he would not say; and now, within the week 
 following upon his twenty-first birthday, Jimmy was, for 
 the first time, to hear something of " famaly matters." 
 
 Why was the Colonel's letter so suggestive of uneasiness, 
 of agitation, of an almost tremulous anxiety with regard 
 to those " future steps " to be taken by his son ? Why 
 was Jimmy so eagerly assured that neither his mother or 
 his father would ever reproach him if he should cut himself
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 273 
 
 adrift from such anchorage as the love of unknown parents 
 may prove to an unknown son ? Why were Colonel and 
 Mrs. Meggatt prepared to abide by his decision ? What 
 was the secret, if there was a secret, which that grave 
 of mystery, Bastock, was about to give up ? Even with 
 Cissy's topaz eyes shooting golden shafts at him from their 
 ambush of curved black lashes, Jimmy asked himself this 
 question over and over again. Even with the memory 
 of yesterm'ght's kisses stinging on his lips, Jimmy wondered. 
 It had never occurred to him until this moment that the 
 carefully guarded secret might affect the legitimacy of his 
 birth — that he might prove to be a natural son ! That 
 newly awakened doubt was a leaden bias in his heart, 
 inclining him to the angle of despondency. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The trees of the Quern House wood possessed a westward 
 inclination, the result of continuous thrashing by stiff 
 easterly gales. Round about, the grey-green mountains 
 lifted their towering heads, Quern Craig looking down 
 upon the old grey mansion that stood between its larch- 
 covered feet with a certain weather-worn expression of 
 benevolence. In the heart of the wood, a bowshot from 
 the dwelling, was an ancient garden, in shape an oblong, 
 guarded by high stone walls. There were two doors in 
 the wall, south and west ; above their lintels the date 1740. 
 Outside, trees crowding up to the walls ; within, daisied 
 lawns, prim walks, a central sun-dial. Fruit-trees pollarded 
 to the height of the walls, mossy old gooseberry and currant- 
 bushes covered with green bunches of blossom, rhibes, 
 pink-tasselled, haunted of bees ; beds full of primulas, 
 daffodils, forget-me-nots, wallflowers of every shade to 
 the rare purple ; jonquils, narcissus, tulips ; masses of 
 exquisite colour and bloom pent in between borders of 
 
 18
 
 274 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 the blue gentianella, and of pansies, yellow, violet, grey, 
 creamy-white, and red. Rich promise of future straw- 
 berry-feasts in well-ordered litter-beds, stately clamps of 
 rhubarb, magnificent pears, peaches, and plums, trained 
 on espaliers and against the south wall. And here one 
 might stroll on a windy spring day basking in sunshine, 
 and breathing soft air while the east wind roared harm- 
 lessly overhead, and the wild trees outside tossed green 
 arms of entreaty above the garden-wall. 
 
 Cissy sat on a green-painted bench, her small, bronze 
 shoes elevated on a green foot-board above the waving 
 grass, waiting for Jimmy, whose name the blackbirds were 
 calling quite distinctly, though the disconsolate thrush of 
 the morning was now dumb. The air was exhilarating, 
 a mingling of the richest spring- flower scents with the 
 resinous perfume of the firs and tassclling larches borne 
 on the cold, clean mountain air. Sheep, reduced by 
 distance to whitish dots, moved on the grey-green velvet 
 of the mountain pastures. The grass-plot was white with 
 snow of daisies ; the sky was the most delicate of aerial 
 blues. It was one of those rare days distinctive of the 
 chill and tardy Northern spring, when the pale-hued, 
 deejDly-lined face of Nature is illumined with the exquisite 
 sudden smile that belongs to the saddest woman's face 
 I have ever seen, and to no other. 
 
 It was a perfect hour, a perfect atmosphere, a perfect 
 place ; that is, it needed the introduction of but one addi- 
 tional element to be perfect, in Cissy's idea. Cissy was 
 in love — if that may be called love which is a mingling of 
 a gratified vanity with the desire of praise, the desire for 
 caresses, the desire of new and thrilling experience, in the 
 heart of a young girl, newly awakened to the conscious- 
 ness of power, convinced of the necessity of subjugating 
 and dominating a creature rougher, stronger, fiercer than 
 herself, to her imperious will.
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 275 
 
 As the click of the latch sounded behind her, and Jimmy's 
 footsteps crunched upon the gravel, the girl rose, and stood 
 waiting beside the green border in the May sunshine that 
 gilded the loosely coiled masses of her bronze-coloured 
 hair, and kissed the pale, clear oval of her cheek, as Jimmy 
 had done last night. She was tall, straight, and active 
 as any young Atalanta, and her black-banded brows 
 gave a curious character of severity to the upper part of 
 the face that was otherwise piquantly, provokingly pretty. 
 She wore a grey-blue skirt of some rough material, with 
 a blouse of white silk gathered about the neck and wrists 
 and embroidered in a dainty honeycomb pattern. About 
 her slender waist was a belt of Russian enamel- work, 
 vivid colours combined in Byzantine patterns. A scarf 
 of old honey-coloured lace was tied about her throat and 
 confined beneath the little cleft chin — perhaps Cissy's 
 prettiest feature — by a little gold frog with diamond eyes. 
 Her own eyes were topazes, clear citron-brown in some 
 lights, wine-) 7 ellow in others, and as she lifted them to 
 Jimmy's it is not surprising that the wine should have gone 
 to his head. In the sudden rush and surge of young 
 emotions, in the consciousness that this delightful wonder 
 was his own, that this young goddess was for him a mortal 
 maiden, his shadowy forebodings were swept away. 
 
 ' Won't you — won't you put on your hat ?" Jimmy said, 
 with a slight catching of the breath, pointing to the 
 discarded tam-o'-shanter (grey-blue, like Cissy's gown) 
 that lay upon the bench. 
 
 There was neither poetry nor romance in the observa- 
 tion, but a keen ear would have detected in the tone all 
 the difference that lies between the uncertain wooer and 
 the accepted lover. 
 
 And then they strolled together round the garden — in 
 and out of magical alleys and up and down enchanted 
 walks. Their talk would not be very interesting to the
 
 276 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 reader ; it was full of repetitions. Only those who have 
 loved frequently, and thus gained experience, can infuse 
 any originality into the conduct and the climax of a wooing. 
 
 " I haven't said anything to mother yet," said Miss 
 Cissy, as they perambulated. " For one thing, I haven't 
 had an opportunity. And for another, I want to look 
 at you through my own eyes a little longer before I drop 
 back into the habit of using other people's." 
 
 The expression gave Jimmy a little twinge. 
 
 "Why should you ?" he demanded. "Your own eyes 
 are the loveliest in the world. Why should you use other 
 people's ?" 
 
 Cissy gave his arm a little squeeze in acknowledgement 
 of the compliment before she answered the question. 
 
 " All girls who have been properly brought up — and 
 I am one of the most properly brought up girls that ever 
 lived," she said — " are taught to look through other people's 
 eyes. When they begin to see with their own, they fall 
 in love, as a rule." 
 
 " When they fall out of love, they drop back into the 
 habit of using other people's. Why not wait until that 
 happens ?" 
 
 "Ah ! If I were to wait for that!" said Cissy, giving 
 another little squeeze to Jimmy's arm. The look and the 
 pressure together were more eloquent than words, and for 
 a moment the conversation was interrupted. Then Miss 
 Wade went on : " Besides, I shall want to see you from 
 all sorts of angles, and from all sorts of points of view. 
 When father bought this dear old place, ho invited every- 
 body he knew to come up North and pronounce upon his 
 purchase. Some people went into raptures ; others were 
 frankly disappointed ; many thought it too bracing ; a 
 great many more found it too depressing ; but, the more 
 opinions conflicted, the happier father was. The points 
 of view I shall begin with are mother's and Frank's. You
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 277 
 
 aren't afraid of being looked at from Frank's point of view, 
 are you ?" 
 
 " Dear old chap, not a bit !" Jimmy had occasionally 
 found Wade's enthusiasm oppressive, but was grateful for 
 it now. 
 
 " When Frank was reading law with Mr. Wotherspoon 
 in London, before father died, and his letters began to be 
 full of you, I used to make fun of him about you," Cissy 
 went on. " And when he brought you back in the Vaca- 
 tion, I used to snub him for quoting you and copying the 
 knot of your necktie, and wearing grey suede gloves because 
 you do. Now I love your neckties, and simply adore 
 your gloves ! Don't ! Somebody's coming !" 
 
 The portly shadow cast upon the path of hard, white 
 river-sand was that of Mrs. Wade, to whom the girl 
 advanced, leading Jimmy by the hand. In such moments 
 the coolness and self-possession of the bravest men are 
 conspicuous by their absence, and Jimmy was no exception 
 to the rule. 
 
 " Mother, this is Mr. Meggatt's birthday !" said Cissy, 
 exhibiting the flushed captive with a little air of proprietor- 
 ship that was quite charming. 
 
 " Dear, now ! and he never told us !" cried the genial 
 woman. " What shall we do to mark the day, as we have 
 no present to give him ?" 
 
 " I have made him a present already," remarked Cissy 
 with a whole quiver-full of mischievous golden arrows 
 shooting from between her narrowed eyelids. That is 
 how the announcement of her matrimonial engagement 
 was made by Miss Wade. If Mrs. Wade was not pro- 
 foundly astonished by the revelation, her reception of it 
 did credit to the histrionic powers of that stout, good- 
 natured, rather vulgar person. 
 
 " Mercy me, child !" she cried ; " you mean you've given 
 him yourself ! Well, there are other people who have
 
 278 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 something to say, Mr. Mcggatt, you must remember, before 
 you get her." But she beamed maternally on Jimmy, and 
 called him a dear fellow ; and then he was kissed — and to 
 be kissed by a girl's mother after being kissed by the girl 
 is, as Jimmy found on that occasion, very much like eating 
 the silver-foil that wrapped up a piece of butterscotch after 
 you have eaten the toffee. The large fortune possessed 
 by the late Mr. Wade — deceased only a year or two pre- 
 viously — had been made, it may be incidentally mentioned, 
 by manufacture of, and wholesale trade in, this toothsome 
 but cloying luxury. Cissy was good enough for a baronet, 
 thought the wife of the Glasgow sugar-baker, as she walked 
 in to luncheon between the young couple ; but, for all 
 people said, baronets didn't grow on every bush for the 
 picking And this young fellow was a gentleman ! Hadn't 
 he been educated at Harrow, hob-and-nob with lords and 
 dukes ? Didn't he belong to West-End Clubs upon whoso 
 doorsteps Franky, poor, dear boy, might cool his heels till 
 doomsday without ever getting elected ? He had plenty 
 of money ; his father was a Colonel, whether of a cavalry 
 or infantry regiment Mrs. Wade was not quite certain ; but 
 a Colonel, still ; who moved in foreign Court circles and 
 was intimate with Crowned Heads. Married to a gentle- 
 man, well-bred and handsome, too, with his well-knit 
 figure and his way of wearing his clothes — clothes that 
 never looked too new — his quiet way of talking, his fine 
 skin, clear eyes, broad shoulders, small, almost womanish, 
 hands and feet — who should say that Cissy hadn't done 
 as well as she might reasonably have been expected to do ? 
 She kissed Jimmy again a few hours later, bidding God bless 
 him as they parted — for he went to London by the night- 
 mail, and called upon Mr. Bastock at his headquarters in 
 the quiet by-street leading Thamesward from the Strand 
 at noon upon the following day. He was at once admitted, 
 and was shown through an outer office, appallingly full, as 

 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 279 
 
 it seemed to Jimmy, of lady clerks — though in reality there 
 were only two demure young women clicking off Mr. 
 Bastock's correspondence from shorthand notebooks upon 
 typewriters — into the inner sanctum. 
 
 " How d'ye do ? How d'ye do ? Well ?" said Mr. 
 Bastock, without giving Jimmy time to answer. " That's 
 right ! And now, what can I do for you V This was his 
 invariable formula. 
 
 He was just the same little, agile, grey, close-shaven, 
 close-cropped man as ever, and his wrinkled, yellowish 
 skin hung even more loosely over the large, mobile muscles 
 of his expressive face. A swift look of keen intelligence 
 shot out of Mr. Bastock's bright black eyes as Jimmy, for 
 answer, drew forth the Colonel's letter and handed it to him. 
 
 " Ah— h'm ! Yes !" said Mr. Bastock thoughtfully, 
 looking at the letter and not into it. " You're of age this 
 month. Time goes, doesn't it ? Ah-h'm ! Yes !" 
 
 " My father writes of some family matters with which 
 he thinks it neoessary that I should be acquainted," com- 
 menced Jimmy. 
 
 " We'll deal with the money matters ftrst, u said Mr. 
 Bastock. He spun round in his revolving office-chair and 
 pulled out a drawer in the American shutter-topped desk 
 at which he had been sitting when Jimmy entered. Then 
 he spun round again, and handed Jimmy a brand-new bank 
 pass-book. "James Quincy Meggatt, Esq.," was beautifully 
 written upon the clean parchment cover. " Open it and 
 look in," said Mr. Bastock. Jimmy obeyed, and found that 
 on the previous day had been paid into the Anglo-American 
 Union Bank, to the credit of James Quincy Meggatt, Esq., 
 the sum of four thousand pounds. " They'll give you a 
 cheque-book on applying ! I should recommend ' To 
 Order,' as being safer than ' To Bearer,' though you'll 
 please yourself, of course. There's another fifteen hundred 
 in sound, reliable stocks — Continental and American Rails»
 
 280 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 and so forth," said Mr. Bastock. " South African mines, 
 luckily for him ! never had any attraction for the Colonel." 
 He handed over a package of thick, folded papers, neatly 
 tied with stout red tape. " And that's All !" 
 
 " I beg your pardon ?" said Jimmy. " You men- 
 tioned " 
 
 " I mentioned that that was all," said Mr. Bastock ; 
 " and I call it a very tidy sum to begin the world with. 
 There's to be no more leading-strings ; you're free to do 
 as you like with your own. You've been expensively 
 brought up ; a deal of money has been expended upon 
 you — invested, is your father's word. If you have grown 
 up with the notion that you were the heir to a large fortune, 
 the son of a wealthy man, your surroundings have con- 
 veyed it to you. I never did, and I know your father 
 hasn't ! If your ideas are larger than the reality, it's the 
 result of your bringing-up. Excuse me !" 
 
 Mr. Bastock touched an electric-bell, as Jimm}' sat with 
 wide-open eyes, looking at the bank-book and the tape- 
 sashed bundle of securities, and a pale boy in a brown 
 livery appeared in the doorway. 
 
 " Get me a glass of liqueur-brandy," he said, " and tell 
 Miss Jebb that I shall be engaged for a quarter of an hour. 
 Feel a little giddy, eh V 
 
 This question was addressed to Jimmy, who took out his 
 handkerchief and wiped away some of the perspiration 
 which glistened upon his forehead and upon his cheeks, 
 which had lost their healthy colour. 
 
 " Perhaps you think your father is to blame for letting 
 you grow up with the idea that you were a rich man's son ? 
 But put it his way — look at it from his point of view ! If 
 you had gone to Harrow as the son of a person of moderate 
 means, you couldn't have moved among your schoolfellows 
 upon a footing of equality — you wouldn't have got the 
 ' tone ' you were sent to Harrow to get. You would have
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 281 
 
 bothered about your future as soon as you were of an age 
 to do it. You'd have toiled and moiled for scholarships ; 
 you'd have got 'em, I dare say, but at the cost of your 
 ' tone ' and your development. Here's the brandy." 
 
 He took the glass and handed it to Jimmy. 
 
 " Thank you, I don't take spirits so early," Jimmy said 
 a little stiffly. 
 
 " Glad to hear it !" said Mr. Bastock drily ; " but on this 
 occasion, though I'm no advocate of pegging, I advise 
 your breaking your rule." He took up the Colonel's 
 letter and tapped it meaningly. ' Those family matters 
 your father mentioned. . . . We haven't touched upon 
 them yet, you know!" 
 
 Jimmy drank the brandy. 
 
 " Now, put that bank-book and that scrip in your inside 
 pocket," advised his guardian. " Button your coat over 
 and listen to me." 
 
 "You speak to me and look at me, sir," said Jimmy, 
 obeying, " as a dentist might who had undertaken to pull 
 out a double-tooth from the jaw of a man with, say, 
 aneurism of the heart. He has it in his power to relieve 
 the patient of his pain, but he may kill him in doing it !" 
 
 " I speak to you and look at you," burst out Mr. Bastock, 
 his black eyes snapping and a sudden rush of blood darken- 
 ing his grey skin, " like a middle-aged man who has got 
 to test the manhood in a young one. You have had the 
 sort of training and education that goes to make an English 
 gentleman — though the blood in you is only part English, 
 by the way ! You're going to show me in the next ten 
 minutes whether your father has got anything worth 
 having for his money !" 
 
 " My father has been in the Army, sir,'' said Jimmy, with 
 pale lips. " I don't doubt he was a brave officer. I — I 
 hope I shall come through your test in a — a way that — 
 that is worthy of a soldier's son !"
 
 282 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 " Your father was never in the Army !" said Mr. Bastock, 
 darting as with relief at the opening afforded. " The title 
 of ' Colonel ' is only complimentary. Fanciful," said 
 Mr. Bastock, rubbing his blue chin ; " assumed to attract, 
 like the prefixes usually adopted " — he threw a keen 
 glance at Jimmy as he launched the last word — " by pro- 
 fessionals." 
 
 " Sir," said Jimmy in a small, colourless, quiet voice which 
 he had never heard before, and the sound of which made 
 Mr. Bastock jump in his chair, " will you kindly tell me 
 to what profession my father belongs ?" 
 
 " Call him a public entertainer," said Mr. Bastook. 
 
 " My mother ," Jimmy was beginning. 
 
 " Call her a public entertainer," retorted Mr. Bastock ; 
 " and then you haven't done with it !" He waited a moment 
 to let the statement sink In, watching the white young 
 face opposite him before he spoke again. " Both your 
 father and your mother are members of a celebrated 
 travelling troupe " 
 
 " Of performers !** said Jimmy in the tone that was so 
 unlike his ordinary voice. 
 
 " Of people like themselves, who are brave enough and 
 energetic enough," said Mr. Bastock, emphasizing every 
 word with a forensic wag of his big forefinger, " to employ 
 to their own profit and for the benefit of those who are 
 dependent upon them" — the keen black eyes looked 
 through Jimmy's blue ones, into his very brain, it seemed 
 — "those physical disqualifications and drawbacks which 
 separate them from the great majority of their fellow- 
 creatures." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " I should like the truth plainly and in as few words 
 as possible," said the small, quiet voice which was so 
 unlike Jimmy's, and so like another which Mr. Bastock 
 knew. The sweat started in beads upon his parchment-
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 283 
 
 skinned, deeply furrowed forehead, as he complied with 
 the request. 
 
 " Your father and mother are performing dwarfs ! ' : 
 There was a rustle, followed by a silence so dead that 
 the buzz of a fly upon the window-pane seemed to fill the 
 whole office. In the chair — a mock rose- wood affair with 
 arms — which Jimmy had occupied the moment before, 
 something like a suit of clothes had collapsed. There was 
 a face hanging over to the left, but it might have been 
 drawn in grey ink on white blotting-paper, it was so flat 
 and so perfectly expressionless ; there were hands and 
 feet, but they looked as unreal as though they belonged 
 to a stuffed dummy. 
 
 " Poor boy !" thought Mr. Bastock, bending over the 
 figure in the chair, with the tears running down his nose, 
 " he's taken it hard — very ! I wish to the Lord I hadn't 
 had to tell him !" Then a gleam of keen, professional 
 interest came into his little black eyes as he straightened 
 himself, and he rubbed his chin contemplatively. ; ' If 
 an actor were to copy tlmt — upon the stage, they'd call 
 it inartistic — the fools who go to see plays, and the 
 ignoramuses who go to criticize them ! A queer world ! — 
 a queer world !" Mr. Bastock shook his bullet-head and 
 rang for some more brandy. 
 
 IV 
 
 The death of pride in the human heart is accompanied 
 by as many foarnings and writhings, contortions and 
 convulsions, as attend the death of a man or any other 
 mammal poisoned by strychnine. When at last the life 
 is fairly out of the body, that remains as a grotesque and 
 hideous thing, twisted and gnarled out of all likeness to 
 its former self, until decomposition successfully reduces it in 
 the cold crucible of the grave to a certain volume of 
 mingled gases and a few handfuls of dust.
 
 284 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 Jimmy was in Paris, which, after London, looked strangely 
 bright, airy, and clean, sitting at breakfast under the 
 shade of a striped awning in the courtyard of his hotel. 
 There was fruit upon the table, its hues and odours grateful 
 to his senses, parched and jaded by the gritty all-night 
 journey ; there were crusty rolls and tempting butter ; a 
 smart and civil waiter poured frothing milk and coffee 
 into a great white crockery cup and brought him poached 
 eggs and pink ham. The animal soul of Jimmy was quick- 
 ened by the sight of these things, and his material body 
 fell to and fed and was strengthened, even while his sad 
 spirit sat apart and wept. 
 
 What had brought him across the Channel ? He had 
 not told Mr. Bastock of his intended journey when he 
 parted with his guardian on the previous day ; he had not 
 mentioned it even to himself. Not even when he stepped 
 into a money-changer's at Charing Cross and invested in 
 a handful of silver coins — francs and five-franc pieces ; 
 not when he strapped and locked his portmanteau and 
 bag ; not even when he had taken his ticket and his seat 
 in the Victoria boat-train, had he acknowledged to himself 
 anything further than that his destination was Paris. 
 And now that he was in Paris ho maintained this curious 
 reserve with himself. Nothing could induce Jimmy to 
 admit to Jimmy what Jimmy's motive was in coming. 
 
 His bodily hunger satisfied, he pushed the breakfast- 
 things away and leaned his elbows on the coarse white 
 cloth and fell to thinking over things that Bastock had 
 said yesterday, before and after he, Jimmy, had made a 
 fool of himself by fainting like a woman. Not that Jimm}' 
 had ever seen a woman faint, but he had been brought up 
 to associate swooning with the weaker sex. The voice of 
 the little grey man with the snapping black eyes was in 
 his ears, as plainly as though Bastock sat before him, 
 repeating :
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 285 
 
 " The title of Colonel is only complimentary. Fanciful ! 
 Assumed to attract, like the prefixes usually adopted by 
 professionals. . . . Call him a public entertainer. . . . Call 
 your mother a public entertainer . . . and then you haven't 
 done with it !" 
 
 And then ! Someone touched Jimmy, and he started. 
 It was the waiter ; the man was asking whether Monsieur 
 would not take a little glass of liqueur. 
 
 A vague desire to be dramatic and romantic in his 
 wretchedness made Jimmy say that he would take an 
 absinthe ; and the sensitive, boyish vanity, which had 
 outlived his dead pride, was wounded by the waiter's 
 taking the order so calmly, and going away into the sun- 
 shine with a tray of clattering crockery things as though 
 no young man had taken the fatal plunge that must end 
 in insanity and death. But Bastock was speaking : there 
 was no way of getting away from him : 
 
 : ' Both your father and your mother are members of a 
 celebrated travelling troupe of people like themselves, 
 who are brave enough and energetic enough to employ to 
 their own profit and the bonefit of those who are dependent 
 upon them " 
 
 " Horrible !" Jimmy winced and shuddered and shut 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Those physical disqualifications and drawbacks which 
 separato them from the great majority of their fellow- 
 creatures. Your father and mother are " 
 
 Jimmy opened his eyes. 
 
 ' I can't bear it !" he said, so loudly that some English 
 and Americans who were breakfasting at the tables in his 
 immediate vicinity looked round. " I cannot bear it !" 
 
 " Dwarfs — performing dwarfs !" 
 
 He clenched the hand that rested on the table and looked 
 down at it, first indifferently, then curiously, then with 
 breathless interest and something like fear. For therse t
 
 286 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 time since his hobble-de-hoyish indifference had been 
 tickled by a compliment to consciousness, he was not proud 
 of the feminine smallness and delicacy of his hands and 
 feet in contrast with his well-knit figure, breadth of shoulder, 
 and depth of chest. A Rajput's gauntlet and stirrup 
 would have fitted Meggatt, a school-fellow at Harrow, who 
 himself was heir to the throne of an Indian principality, 
 had been wont to say. . . . Were these the inherited traits 
 of those " physical disqualifications " of which Bastock 
 had spoken 1 Signs of atavism — warnings ? The old 
 walled garden at the Quern House rose up before the 
 unhappy young man, and Cissy's breath was on his cheek 
 and Cissy's eyes looked into his. He loved her with a 
 better love in this moment than he had ever felt for 
 her before. That old love of yesterday was selfish, 
 conceited, patronizing ; for Jimmy had never disguised 
 from himself his conviction that the Wades were, socially, 
 far beneath his own level. He had repeated to himself 
 many times since it had become clear to him that he loved 
 Cissy, — that he wanted Cissy and no other girl in the wide 
 world to be his own, " The husband elevates the wife." He 
 had had the idea of elevating Miss Wade above her plebeian 
 surroundings, of folding his own purple-bordered mantle 
 about her, of bestowing upon her, with the title of Mrs. James 
 Meggatt, the cachet of well-bred exclusi veness which Nature, 
 in her most bountiful mood, could hardly confer upon the 
 simple child of a mere sugar-baker. 
 
 Mrs. James Meggatt ! Why, it was not certain ! Mr. 
 Bastock had forgotten to tell Jimmy whether the name was 
 the Colonel's own, or had been assumed with the quasi- 
 rnilitary title ! And what a dignity should be conferred 
 with the name ! And what an heritage might not be 
 handed on with it ! 
 
 The absinthe was set before Jimmy with a water-carafe. 
 ^Tu^snew that an habitual drinker usually poured a little 

 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 287 
 
 water into the glass, partially filled with the pale-greenish 
 liqueur, and then watched the opaline changes of colour 
 that resulted before he knocked another nail into his 
 coffin by swallowing the mixture. He followed prescriptive 
 rule, and drank and found it nasty, and thought he caught 
 a fleeting twinkle in the waiter's eye as he coughed a little 
 and made an involuntary grimace. But it strung his 
 nerves and spurred him to call for his bill and pay for it, 
 and then he lighted a cigarette and was surprised to find 
 that he still enjoyed the flavour of the good Turkish 
 tobacco, in spite of all that had befallen since yesterday. 
 And then he strolled out of the courtyard and hailed the 
 white-capped chauffeur of a ramshackle little red-painted 
 taxi-cab, and gave the address, " Cirque des Nations." 
 A functionary of the hotel, standing near, interfered before 
 the white-capped chauffeur had whipped off with his 
 prey. 
 
 Did Monsieur know that the Cirque would not be open 
 until two of the clock, when there would be a matinee 
 performance ? If Monsieur was about to proceed to the 
 Cirque for the purpose of booking a seat, Monsieur might 
 spare himself the trouble. A word to M. Surion of the 
 bureau in the vestibule and Monsieur could be supplied. 
 
 ' Thank you. I only want to — to drive past and look 
 at the outside of the place. I've heard something of it," 
 said Jimmy, with difficulty ; " and I'd like to see it, thank 
 you." And the ramshackle taxi, being put into violent 
 motion, conveyed Jimmy through the bright, bustling, 
 cleanly thoroughfares, vivid with active life, to the Cirque, 
 at whose magnificent gilded portals he paid and dismissed 
 the white-capped chauffeur. 
 
 It was yet early. Jimmy was reassured to see that only 
 a few bloused workmen and idle loungers were lingering 
 about the doors of the big, opulent building, with its 
 domed roof of gilded glass, its gorgeous sculptured facade
 
 288 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 of showy marbles ornamented with groups of equestrian 
 figures ; its array of life-sized photographs and gigantic 
 coloured posters illustrating the wonders to be seen within, 
 comprising, amongst other excpiisite novelties, the cele- 
 brated whistling entertainment of Madame Smithers, the 
 Australian Bird of Mockery ; the marvellous equestrian 
 feats of the Celebrated Centaur Family ; the Seven 
 Balancing Bonnellis in their electrifying plank-and-ladder 
 interlude ; Madame la Comtesse Puspok Ladany (known 
 in the most distinguished Society circles as the Beautiful 
 Hungarian, and heroine of the most sensational of recent 
 divorce cases) in her Elegant Equestrian Feats upon the 
 highly trained Arab Maimouni, assisted by Rurik the 
 Gitano (who had the honour, on the occasion above alluded 
 to, of eloping with Madame la Comtesse). Then, attention 
 was clamorously invited to the Mermaids, wonders of nata- 
 tion ! . . . Mdlle. Minota, the American Girl-Giantess, 
 nineteen years of age, nine feet in height, weighing two 
 hundred and seventy-six pounds ; able to lift a weight of 
 one hundred and forty pounds with one hand . . . and the 
 Marvellous Mignons, a talented troupe of eight of the 
 smallest human prodigies known to the civilized globe — 
 mimics, dancers, jugglers, musicians, singers. One must not 
 fail to see Colonel Peter in his world-famed triumphs of 
 prestidigitation ; or hear the unequalled imitations of 
 popular songstresses given by Madame Tiny. To-day at 
 Two ! To-night at Ten ! 
 
 Other announcements followed, but Jimmy read no more. 
 White-lipped and blank-eyed, he stared at the flaring 
 crimson letters on the huge yellow poster. He had found 
 what he sought. Sensation was dead ; there remained 
 only a numbness, with a stupid conviction that, if it had 
 been possible to feel, he would have been suffering horribly. 
 
 To-day at two, Colonel Peter would juggle and Madame 
 Tiny would give her rapture -evoking imitations of popular 

 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 289 
 
 music-hall houris. And Colonel Peter was his father, and 
 his mother was Madame Tiny. 
 
 Someone near him seemed to utter a hoarse, choking 
 sound that was half a laugh, half a sob. Jimmy looked 
 round, and saw a small, wizened, bright-eyed boy staring 
 at him. The small boy instantly grimaced and fled to the 
 shelter of a column where lurked another small bojr. Then 
 they both put out their tongues, and said the things that 
 small street-urchins in England say to foreigners. And when 
 a vehicle like a hotel-omnibus, only shinier, drawn by a 
 pair of stout grey horses, was driven past, with a dual 
 shriek they instantly pursued it. Jimmy followed more 
 slowly upon their dusty little heels, arriving at a tall, semi- 
 private side-door, so highly varnished as to appear seldom 
 used ; and which, in a non-Republican country, would have 
 been a Royal entrance. As the shiny vehicle, which was of 
 unusual height, and the curtains of which were closely 
 drawn, came to a standstill, two men, fiercely moustached 
 and dressed in a kind of Commissionaire's uniform, buff 
 with black facings and silver lace — Jimmy afterwards 
 recognized it as the livery worn by the male attendants 
 of the Cirque — got down from the box-seat, and while 
 one of them unlocked the private door with a pass-key, 
 the other opened the door of the shiny omnibus ; and 
 Gavroche and his companion broke into ear-splitting 
 whoops of joy as a colossal foot and ankle, apparelled in a 
 pink silk stocking and a rosetted black satin shoe, the dainty 
 femininity of which grotesquely emphasized its enormous 
 proportions, cautiously descended to the ground. . . . 
 " Oh, what a leg !" 
 
 " Come along, ma cocotte ! Don't be shy !" 
 
 The vast pink silk stocking and the tremendous satin 
 
 shoe, thus adjured by Gavroche and Co.. wavered, hesitated, 
 
 and were modestly drawn up again. From the interior of 
 
 the shiny omnibus came a mooing, plaintive, feminine voice : 
 
 19
 
 290 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 " Bapteest !" 
 
 " Oui, Mademoiselle?" from the uniformed functionary 
 who held the door open. 
 
 " Kwe faire, Bapteest ?" 
 
 Baptiste suggested that Mademoiselle should descend. 
 
 " Je ne voo par, Bapteest, while these horrid boys are 
 here!" Jimmy caught a glimpse of a large, pale, moon- 
 like face, and as a hand whose proportions matched that of 
 the foot and ankle previously described, drew aside a corner 
 of a window-blind, he knew that he looked, free of charge, 
 upon the celebrated Miss Minota. " Ally voo ong, 
 mechangs ! Go away, you nasty little creatures !" ex- 
 claimed the giantess, in a nutter of distress, which so 
 hugely delighted Gavroche and Co. that they broke into 
 a war-dance. 
 
 Still Baptiste urgently repeated that Mademoiselle must 
 positively descend, and, after some more hesitation, 
 Mademoiselle did ; coming out of the omnibus by gradual 
 instalments, until she stood upright on the pavement, 
 her nine-feet-odd-inches of height handsomely increased 
 by a vast hat with a plume of ostrich-feathers, which might 
 have done duty for the central ornament of a canopy of 
 state. But MM. Gavroche, having danced to exhaustion, 
 were now standing on their heads directly in Miss Minota's 
 path. There is nothing particularly appalling in the 
 exhibition of the soles of four little grimy feet reversed, 
 two grinning mouths ditto, and two pairs of twinkling 
 eyes partially obscured by a cataract of particoloured 
 rags. Yet the giantess, whose vast height and bulk were 
 on a scale with her timidity, hung back in ludicrous 
 embarrassment. The uniformed attendants grinned, but 
 offered no assistance ; and Jimmy could think of nothing 
 but a large, mild elephant harassed by a couple of shaggy 
 Skye-terrier pups. 
 
 In his amusement and his compassion, mingled with
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 291 
 
 another emotion difficult to define, he stepped forwards. 
 The Gavroches found themselves turned right end up, 
 and smartly shaken in the process. Jimmy, keeping the 
 Arabs in check with the swing of his walking-stick, a sturdy 
 piece of British timber calculated to appeal to the possessors 
 of naked shins, lifted his hat to Miss Minota, indicating 
 that the way was clear. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, I'm sure !" said the giantess with 
 tremendous bashfulness. A blush covered her immense 
 cheeks as she inclined the huge plumed hat in acknow- 
 ledgement of Jimmy's courtesy, and it was as if a Calif ornian 
 Redwood had bowed before a tempest. She swept past 
 him, and it was as though the mainsail of a yacht had 
 gone over on the starboard-tack, emptying the wind out 
 of an acre of canvas. Then Miss Minota went in at the 
 private door — not without difficulty. The attendants 
 followed ; the omnibus drove off. Jimmy and the Gavroches 
 remained upon the pavement. 
 
 Said Gavroche the First, keeping at a safe distance — 
 
 " Did you see the Englishman — sacred imbecile ! — 
 making up to the big one — hein ?" 
 
 Returned Gavroche the Second — 
 
 " Dame,, out, fvois bien ! I should like to be by when 
 she sits on his lap !" 
 
 " One, two ! Pouache — and Mademoiselle looks for the 
 Englishman under the chair ! But there isn't any English- 
 man left, saississez vous ? — so she sweeps up the omelette 
 and gets another sweetheart !" 
 
 On Jim my s' exhibiting no tendency to take vengeance for 
 these biting sarcasms, the combined speculations of the 
 Gavroches became more daring still. Failing to evoko 
 any demonstration, they taxed their facial powers to the 
 utmost in a final series of grimaces, and departed, only 
 once looking back to yell " Fashoda !" 
 
 The doors of the Cirque were open by this time, and
 
 292 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 people pouring in. Carnages and omnibuses discharged 
 their loads ; Mimi the dress-maker and Madame la Duchesse 
 jostled at the portals ; Jimmy took his place in the queue 
 that had already formed near the box-office, and secured 
 a fauteuil seat, for which he paid five francs. He found 
 himself close to the ring, with his knees against the low 
 barrier which encircled the sand-strewn space, a clammy 
 sensation about the palms of the hands, and his heart 
 drumming heavily against his ribs. The gorgeous dome, 
 all glass and gilding, the pretty ladies in the boxes, the 
 orchestra tuning in a gilded balcony on the left of the stage, 
 the people who pushed past him into their places, seemed 
 made of dream-stuff. A circular steel railing rose about 
 the ring, and a burly lion-tamer went through his per- 
 formance ; his snarling, tawny pupils were driven back 
 into their quarters, the railings disappeared, and the 
 celebrated Centaur Family exhibited their feats of horse- 
 manship. . . . There were bursts of applause, shouts 
 of laughter from the audience ; but the cleverness and 
 daring of the riders, the drolleries of the clowns, were 
 lost upon one spectator. A faint smile came upon his set 
 young face, a gleam of recognition into his heavy eyes, as 
 the embroidered tableau-curtains rose upon a scene repre- 
 senting an Oriental Palace, and revealed Mdlle. Minota, 
 diademed, sceptred, and robed with Eastern magnificence, 
 sitting upon a gilded throne. She rose and bowed to the 
 right, to the left, to the middle. . . . The band struck up 
 a march as she descended from the stage by a flight of 
 red-covered steps, and solemnly promenaded round the 
 arena, half-a-dozen negro children carrying her train, a 
 voluble gentleman in evening- dress, who acted as inter- 
 preter, accompanying her progress. She was indeed an 
 overwhelming example of feminine development as she 
 gravely performed her tour, replying in monosyllables to 
 the remarks that were conveyed to her through the gentle- 

 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 293 
 
 man in evening-dress. It seemed to Jimmy that Miss 
 Minota recognized him ; and, as her monumental propor- 
 tions moved by, he found himself seized by the impulse 
 to rise up and arrest her progress, as a dozen other people 
 had done, by intimating a desire to shake her enormous 
 hand. But Mdlle. Minota returned to the stage, made 
 her farewell salutation, and was concealed by the descend- 
 ing and closing curtains without any such demonstration 
 on Jimmy's part. And then the march changed to a lively 
 gallop, and, amidst the jingling of tiny bells, the trampling 
 of tiny hoofs, the cracking of toy whips, two miniature 
 coaches, heavily gilded, drawn by teams of ponies twenty- 
 five inches high and driven by monkeys in cocked-hats 
 and laced liveries, dashed into the arena, wheeled twice 
 round it at full speed, then stopped. And the little ladies 
 and gentlemen now getting out — these were the Marvellous 
 Mignons. 
 
 There were eight of them — four men and four women, 
 the men in correct evening-dress, the ladies in decolletee 
 ball-costumes, wearing feathered and beflowered hats and 
 a good deal of jewellery. One by one they were lifted by 
 a uniformed attendant to the velvet-cushioned summit of 
 the low barrier which enclosed the arena. Arm-in-arm, 
 and with a certain assumption of fashionable assurance, 
 they promenaded round it, bowing and smiling to the 
 public . . . becking and nodding like so many mechanical 
 dolls. They were peaky, wizened, and careworn under 
 their professional paint ; one or two of the men had heads 
 that palpably belonged to full-sized people ; one of the 
 little ladies was painfully deformed. . . . Jimmy shuddered 
 and leaned back in his seat as the procession drew near. . . . 
 He closed his eyes, not daring to search amongst those 
 faces for one that his own might resemble. . . . Surges of 
 shame, of rage, of loathing unspeakable, seemed to rise 
 up and overwhelm him ; he gasped for breath with white
 
 294 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 lips ; he was suffocating . . . choking . . . dying ! as the 
 Marvellous Mignons passed, and the public comments, 
 rose up about him, a chorus of voices, admiring, jeering, 
 pitying 
 
 Some minutes elapsed before he forced himself to see 
 and hear. The little coaches had jingled away with their 
 freight of stunted humanity. A little table with a crimson 
 velvet cover had been placed in the middle of the ring ; 
 before the little table stood a little male figure, juggling 
 with a pair of china candlesticks and a couple of lighted 
 candles, and, for the first time in his conscious life, James 
 Meggatt saw his father. 
 
 The Colonel appeared to be about three feet high. He 
 was well-proportioned ; his head, unlike those of several 
 of his fellow-performers, appeared to have been made 
 for him ; and but for the deep lines in his forehead — 
 revealed by Jimmy's opera-glass — and the crow's feet about 
 his temples, he might have passed for a little boy. He 
 had a round, childish face, and round eyes of a pale colour 
 — probably blue ; and his light brown hair was parted on 
 one side and smoothed into a stiff crest, as though his 
 nurse had done it with a wet brush. He had all the air 
 of a good little boy, and rather a dull one, too, as he went 
 conscientiously through the feats of legerdemain which, 
 according to the posters, had enraptured most of the 
 Crowned Heads of Europe. The tricks were very easy 
 ones, with candles, as aforesaid, with a lighted cigar, with 
 a hat, and with halfpence, which the Colonel tossed into 
 the air in succession and caught one by one in his waistcoat- 
 pocket — when he did not drop them on the ground. Truth 
 to tell, he bungled man}' more times than he succeeded ; 
 but, despite the poverty of the whole exhibition, the 
 audience applauded. The impression of the Colonel's 
 being a good but somewhat dull little boy had conveyed 
 itself to them, and, being child-lovers, they were kind. But 

 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 295 
 
 when the Colonel retired, and Madame Tiny tripped forth 
 and began, with the shrillest and reediest of soprano 
 voices, accompanied with the most lavish of gestures, to 
 give her famous imitations of music-hall " stars," the 
 people grew bored and were rude. Jimmy felt himself 
 growing scarlet with vicarious indignation as the poor 
 little lady bowed and smiled, and pressed her infinitesimal 
 gloved hand against her corsage in piteous manifestation 
 of gratitude for the hisses and the cat-calls. . . . True, 
 her squeaky little doll's voice, her mechanical doll's 
 gestures, had appeared to him intolerable ; but ..." The 
 cowards ! the brutes !" he said between his teeth as Madame 
 Tiny made her exit to the accompaniment of jeering 
 laughter. And he got up and plunged out into the open 
 air, treading recklessly and meriting the execrations which 
 were lavished on his British head by the owners of Gallic 
 toes upon which he had trodden. 
 
 He had formulated no definite intention of going round 
 to the stage-door and sending in his name ; but he did 
 this, nevertheless. An official in an enormous brass- 
 bound hat, something between a pompier's helmet and a 
 shako of the Old Guard, received the card, and glanced at 
 Jimmy curiously (or Jimmy fancied that he did) before 
 sending it in by a negro boy ; one of the ebony pages who had 
 carried the imperial train of Miss Minota. It seemed a long 
 time before the answer came back by word of mouth. M le 
 Colonel entreated of Monsieur to make himself the trouble 
 to drive at once to M. le Colonel's hotel, where Madame 
 and M. le Colonel would, within a few minutes, have the 
 happiness of meeting Monsieur. 
 
 As Jimmy signified his willingness to do as the Colonel 
 desired, he was sensible of vexation. He had conquered 
 his great repugnance, testified his willingness to meet his 
 parents on their own level, within their own sphere, and 
 had met with a rebuff instead of gratitude. It never
 
 296 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 occurred to him, as he hailed a taxi-cab and rattled away to 
 the appointed meeting-place, that, in attempting to thrust 
 himself upon his poor little parents without previously 
 warning them of the approach of so emotional a crisis, 
 he had been grossly inconsiderate. It never dawned on 
 him that his conduct had been wanting in delicacy and 
 respect — never for an instant, although he had enjoyed 
 all the advantages of a full-sized education. He was huffy 
 and annoyed as he drove to the Colonel's hotel, which was 
 a fashionable hostelry on a smart boulevard. He was 
 shown into a handsome private sitting-room, with a lofty 
 ceiling, gilded chandeliers, and smart upholsterings of pink 
 velvet damask, and there to him entered very shortly 
 the boyish little gentleman who had juggled with the cigars 
 and candlesticks, leading by the hand the dollish little 
 lady whose vocal efforts had caused Jimmy such tingling 
 distress. Both were pale, dispirited, and red-eyed ; it 
 was barely possible to disassociate them with the idea of 
 children in disgrace. But the little Colonel spoke up 
 bravely, holding a hand of nervous Madame Tiny in one 
 of his own, and patting her shoulder with the other. 
 
 " My dear, this is our — our beloved son, as the Almighty 
 in His mercy has permitted us to see — a grown-up, full- 
 sized man. James, my dear son, this is your mother." 
 
 And as Jimmy, in painful embarrassment, hesitated, 
 looking down upon the fluttered little lady from a height 
 which had never until that moment caused him any in- 
 convenience : " If you will kindly be seated," the Colonel 
 added in his high, rather common, little boy's voice," your 
 mother will be better able to speak to you, I think." 
 
 Blushing furiously, Jimmy sat down in the indicated chair 
 — a pink velvet thing with stout bow-legs. He was 
 miserably conscious, and his sufferings were acute. The 
 young father who finds himself for the first time subjected 
 to the ordeal of dandling a baby under the watchful eyes
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 297 
 
 of his wife, his wife's mother, and the monthly nurse, 
 tastes humiliation and knows himself to be but a clumsy 
 creature. Jimmy had not the secret consolation of the 
 young father ; which lies in the innate conviction that but 
 for him there would be no baby. He sat there, a man of 
 five feet eight inches, well-grown and muscular, in the 
 presence of a creature so small and weak that he could 
 have crushed her at his will. Yet his veins had been filled 
 from the fountain of hers ; she had carried him under her 
 bosom, and endured for him the pangs of birth. He was 
 afraid to meet her eyes. He studied the pattern of the 
 carpet as though life depended on his getting it by heart. 
 And when she touched his open hand, he shivered un- 
 controllably ; perhaps because the touch was so slight 
 and small and cold. 
 
 " If you was to bend down your head, my dear James," 
 the Colonel said, struggling with something that sounded 
 like catarrh, " your mother would be better able to — hem, 
 ahem ! — to kiss you, my boy !" 
 
 " I beg your pardon !" said Jimmy. He stooped forward, 
 scarlet to the tips of his ears, and Madame Tiny placed a 
 timid little salute in the middle of his forehead. His father 
 kissed him, too ; and then, as he sheepishly lifted up his 
 head, he saw that both the little creatures were weeping. 
 Their tearful excitement was shocking to him, in a way 
 which he could not define. 
 
 " Please excuse us !" gasped Madame Tiny, dabbing her 
 eyes with a laced pocket-handkerchief which might have 
 been bought in the Lowther Arcade. " We don't wish 
 to upset you ! We " She relapsed into her pocket- 
 handkerchief and became inaudible. 
 
 " Now, now, mother !" the Colonel said. He made a 
 great pretence of having done with all emotion, and put 
 his own pocket-handkerchief away as though he never 
 meant to take it out again. And he got his wife a chair.
 
 298 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 in which, small as it was, she sat with the points of her 
 tiny buckled shoes dangling some inches above the carpet, 
 which was swept by the lace-frilled train of her fashionable 
 evening-dress, as she rocked herself and sobbed and dried 
 her eyes in an hysterical passion of grief or joy, or both 
 together, which would have been touching and appropriate 
 in a woman of quite normal proportions. " Her nerves are 
 rather overtried," the Colonel continued apologetically, 
 glancing at Madame Tiny. " You may guess, or, perhaps, 
 it hasn't occurred to you, that the last few days have been, 
 for us both, clays of suspense. Suspense and — and anxiety. 
 But, whatever your decision had been, we — we was fully 
 prepared to abide by it, my dear son ! Mother, if you 
 go on crying like that, I shall have to send for Hattie, I 
 really shall !" 
 
 " Hattie ?" The idea had never before occurred to 
 Jimmy. Perhaps he was not the only offspring of the union 
 before him. " Hattie V he repeated awkwardly, glancing 
 at the door. 
 
 " If your mother and myself rightly understood the line 
 or two you wrote upon your card, you was present at to- 
 day's performance," returned the Colonel. "Therefore, 
 you enjoyed an opportunity of seeing Hattie — I should 
 say, Miss Minota." 
 
 "The — the " Jimmy was afraid to say "The 
 
 giantess," because of the extreme comparison suggested 
 by the word. The Colonel nodded. 
 
 " A fine girl, and as good a creature as ever stepped ! 
 She has a great affection for your mother — quite clings 
 to her, having lost both parents in early youth. A young 
 woman without natural protectors should have some other 
 persons — as she can trust in and rely upon — to look up 
 to," said the Colonel gravely, pulling one or two of the 
 fluffy light hairs which grew upon the corners of his upper 
 lip. " And we, with no children of our own about us —
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 299 
 
 we've got to feel as if Hattie Minota quite belonged to us. 
 Haven't we, mother ?" 
 
 " Indeed we have, Peter dear !" 
 
 Madame Tiny's sobs had subsided ; she had hidden away 
 the Lowther Arcadian pocket-handkerchief, and smoothed 
 the puckers out of her round, plain, sallow little face. She 
 was still absurdly fluttered, and shy of her son ; her doll-like 
 hands, adorned with superb rings, hovered about her tiny 
 bosom like agitated butterflies if he so much as glanced at 
 her, but there was no discounting the admiration that 
 shone in her eyes whenever they might furtively dwell 
 upon him. " He — he reminds me so of my brother Wil- 
 liam," she remarked, with a nervous little titter, as the 
 Colonel intercepted one of these stolen regards. The 
 Colonel turned to Jimmy. 
 
 " William Quincey — your mother's second brother — was 
 six feet high." 
 
 " The Qumceys were all tall people !" added Madame 
 Tiny. 
 
 " So were the Meggatts — as far back as the Meggatts go, 
 and I suppose that takes us right away to Adam," said the 
 Colonel proudly. " Not an undersized man or woman ever 
 bore the name — but me ! I am the only prodigy ever 
 was known in my family ; and your mother is, similarly, 
 the only prodigy ever was known in hers." 
 
 Jimmy's father, in his thin, boyish little voice, with its 
 Cockney accent and American intonations, had told some- 
 thing that his son had burningly desired to know. A look 
 of relief came into Jimmy's face as the Colonel slid down 
 from his chair, and fetched, from a side-table, an immense, 
 gilded photograph-album, which he brought to his son's 
 knee, like an obliging child. It contained a collection of 
 Meggatts and Quinceys, who certainly justified the state- 
 ment regarding their size. To Uncle William, a large, 
 bearded man who balanced his forefinger upon a broken
 
 300 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 Corinthian column and wore a cabbage-tree hat, flanne 1 
 shirt, and thigh-boots, Jimmy certainly bore a faint family 
 resemblance, such as exists between the pumpkin and the 
 melon. 
 
 " William had that taken at the gold-diggings," volun- 
 teered Madame Tiny, in her shrill voice. 
 
 " He keeps a grocer's store in San Francisco now, the same 
 as what your mother's father did. Your mother's Cali- 
 fornian bred and born. As for me, I belong to the Old 
 Country. My father was a glass-bender in Lambeth Road," 
 said the Colonel, as Jimmy's long-cherished illusions with 
 regard to the Meggatt family melted into air ; " show-cases, 
 and so forth, was his trade. Perhaps," there was almost 
 a twinkle in the Colonel's eye, " perhaps that's how I came 
 to be part of a show myself. Eh, mother ?" 
 
 " Don't, father !" expostulated Madame Tiny, wrinkling 
 her nose as though she were about to cry again. 
 
 " Your mother don't like the life — the travelling and the 
 constant change," explained the Colonel, with a sagacious 
 glance at Jimmy. " If you care to smoke before our early 
 professional dinner — because you won't deny us the 
 pleasure of having a meal together ?" said the little man 
 pleasantly, pulling out of his breast-pocket a full-grown 
 crocodile-leather case, handsomely mounted in gold, the 
 same from which he had extracted the cigars with which 
 he had previously juggled — " if you care to smoke before 
 dinner, try one of these. Your mother doesn't object to 
 tobacco, or she'd object to me ! Isn't that so, mother ?" 
 
 It never occurred to Jimmy, as he smiled at the Colonel's 
 mild facetiousness, that the little gentleman's good spirits 
 might have been assumed to cloak a tremulous distress 
 arising from a keen appreciation of the impossibility of the 
 situation. He accepted a cigar, which was both long and 
 strong, and the Colonel, standing at his knee, gave him a 
 light. During this proceeding, Jimmy was conscious of a
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 301 
 
 faint rustle and the opening and closing of a door, and when 
 the blue, fragrant smoke cleared from before his vision, he 
 saw that Madame Tiny had left the room. 
 
 " You'll make allowances for her," said the Colonel, 
 following the direction of his son's eyes. " She has been 
 over-excited, and she's a little upset. One must make 
 allowances for a woman's feelings — and your mother isn't 
 
 over-strong. You dropped upon us so suddenly that " 
 
 The Colonel's eyes rounded at the recollection. 
 
 "I ought to have written first," said Jimmy thickly. 
 " I'm afraid ... I believe I acted inconsiderately. I 
 hope my mother " 
 
 He stopped in a kind of miserable dismay ; but the 
 Colonel beamed with delight. " Go on," he said, taking the 
 large cigar out of his mouth to laugh more unrestrainedly. 
 ' Your mother ... I wish she could have heard you say 
 that — I really do ! Women think so much of these things." 
 He slid down from his chair, his massive gold watch-chain 
 with its jewelled charms, clanking, and his little silk socks 
 revealed as before. " I'll show you something. Wait a 
 minute !" He went out of the room into an adjoining 
 chamber, the same into which Madame Tiny had vanished, 
 and after a moment returned with a Russia-leather case. 
 It was handsomely embossed, and fitted with a lock and 
 key. It contained every portrait of Peter that had ever 
 been taken, from the last, a highly polished and stippled 
 specimen of the photographer's art, to the first, a faded 
 presentment of a large, solemn bab}^ grasping a rattle, 
 and staring out into an untried world with round, specu- 
 lative eyes. " Your mother's there, too," said the Colonel ; 
 and, indeed, after some trouble, Peter detected the forehead 
 and eyes of quite a girlish Madame Tiny peeping over a 
 shoulder-knot of the large baby, two small hands clasped 
 firmly round its solid waist, and a coquettish little foot 
 pointing out from a wilderness of embroidered draperies.
 
 302 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 " Your mother, when a girl, was a sweet, pretty little 
 creature, and who should say it if not her husband ?" the 
 Colonel went on, pulling at the large cigar. " Twenty-two 
 years ago we met at the old Westminster Aquarium. 
 There was a stage-spectacle, and I took the part of Sir 
 Jeffrey Hudson — who was a person celebrated in English 
 history, I've been given to understand. Your mother and 
 me came out of a pie in a Royal Banquet that was at the 
 end of the play, and, as my reward for doing something or 
 another in connection with the rescue of a party who 
 was in prison, King Charles united us in marriage. That 
 spectacle had a run of twenty-five nights ; and on the last 
 night, as we sat together in the pie a-waiting for the crust 
 to be lifted up, 1 spoke !" 
 
 The Colonel's grammar became uncertain as his earnest- 
 ness increased. Jimmy, staring at the childish figure perched 
 on the edge of the high chair, at the ringed, elfin hand that 
 flourished the big cigar, at the wizened forehead and the 
 sunken pale-grey eyes, with dark half-circles under them 
 as though the boy sat up too late, let his own cigar go out. 
 ' I spoke. I told her as I couldn't bear to think of join- 
 ing another show and leaving her ; that I knew her aunt, 
 who travelled with her, wasn't over-kind. I said, perhaps 
 for her and me — two lonely little creatures in a crowded 
 world of big people — there might be a little world where 
 everything was on a scale to match with ourselves, and 
 pity and contempt and curiosity be quite shut out. She cried 
 as if her heart would break, sitting there in the pie ; and then 
 she put her hand into mine ; and we entered into possession 
 of our new world from that night, twenty-two years ago." 
 
 The Colonel waved the smoke away from his eyes with 
 his little, ringed hand, and coughed as if some of it had 
 got into his throat. 
 
 ' We got married quietly. The thing would have been 
 made a nine-days' wonder of if it had spread about. We
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 303 
 
 joined a troupe — something like this — and saw foreign 
 capitals. Your mother picked up languages wonderfully ; 
 she'd been educated at a school. She writes a lovely hand. 
 All our letters to you were wrote by your mother." Jimmy 
 recalled the giant caligraphy from which he had evolved 
 that imaginary portrait of his father. " Then you dropped 
 on us — almost before we knew ! and, though you were small 
 enough at first, my boy, the rate at which you grew made 
 me and your mother giddy. Then it broke on us that you 
 belonged, not to our little world, but to the big world out- 
 side it ; that you never could be ours, except by your own 
 election and choice ; that in keeping you with us we'd be 
 doing you a cruel wrong, and that one day you might 
 reproach us, justly, with our selfishness. So we made up 
 our minds to part with you ; and if you'd seen the wa3 r 
 your mother took it, how she grieved, and wouldn't show 
 her grief for fear of grieving me . . . how she urged me 
 on to take the step that trod on both our hearts and bruised 
 'em — you'd have allowed that a woman may be only three 
 feet high, and still a heroine !" 
 
 The Colonel took out his handkerchief openly, and 
 mopped his eyes and blew his nose. Then he went on : 
 
 ' Your mother it was that wrote to Bastock. He'd 
 acted as our Easiness Agent in negotiations with the 
 managements of the English and foreign Variety Shows, 
 and acted fairly. We were making a handsome income, 
 and we'd money saved. We took Bastock into our secret 
 and told him our plan. Says your mother to Bastock : 
 ' Our son is to be beared away from us, and ignorant of 
 what we really are and how the world regards us, which 
 knowledge would handicap him at the very start! We 
 mean our son to be brought up in a full-sized way. No 
 checked developments, no warped opinions, no pigmy 
 views, no stunted examples, are to hamper our son when 
 he grows up — as we pray he may ! — to be a properly de-
 
 304 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 veloped man. Let him go to a great school where gentle- 
 men's sons are bred and taught to be large-minded and 
 chivalrous, and tender to the little and weak ! And when 
 he is of an age to think and act for himself, when he becomes 
 a large-minded, noble man, then let him know the truth ! 
 and, looking down upon the father and mother, as it's the 
 Almighty Will he never may look up to in this world, — per- 
 haps he'll recognize that, whatever was mistaken in their 
 views, whatever fell short and missed of the end they'd 
 hoped and planned and worked for ... no full-sized 
 parents could have loved a child more dear, or sent him 
 from them with more sorrowful hearts to the care of 
 strangers'!' Mother's very words, I assure you !" said the 
 Colonel huskily. 
 
 Jimmy moved uneasily in his chair. 
 
 " So you went out of our little world into the big world," 
 his father went on, " and grew and throve as we'd hoped 
 you would. We'd christened you James — for me, with 
 mother's surname after it, and we fell into a way between 
 ourselves of calling you Full-Sized James. The time when 
 Full-Sized James should come of age, and learn who his 
 parents were, and what they meant in doing as they did 
 by him : we always talked of that. And as it doesn't do 
 to expect too much or count too greatly on having things 
 go as you'd like 'em to — in this world ! — we brought our- 
 selves to look at our son's future without seeing ourselves in 
 it, and to think of our own old age without him, seeing 
 that he might, without ingratitude or baseness, prefer to 
 drop us when he learned the truth. We arranged to give 
 him a free hand, to make him independent of us, as far as 
 our poor ability went, so that money shouldn't influence 
 his decision, when he came to make it, and he might be 
 free to take us or leave us — leave us or take us, just as he 
 chose ! And if, instead of striking into the side-path that 
 led our way, you'd gone on along the wide road that ends,
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 305 
 
 pray Heaven ! in fame and fortune for a young man with a 
 full-sized body and a full-sized brain," said the Colonel, 
 folding his small hands quietly upon his little knee, " your 
 mother and me would never have reproached you — even 
 in our thoughts. ' God bless our only child !' would 
 have been our prayer, ' and keep and prosper him wherever 
 he goes !' " 
 
 He freed his small right hand for a moment to wave it, 
 as if bidding Jimmy farewell, and the gesture had so much 
 of largeness in it that for the moment the Colonel appeared 
 quite imposing in his dimensions. But the illusion passed, 
 and Jimmy became aware that Madame Tiny had returned, 
 and that an English-speaking waiter was announcing 
 dinner. 
 
 " Please to take your mother, my dear son," said the 
 Colonel briskly, getting down from his chair. And Jimmy, 
 conscious that a grin was concealed behind the preternatural 
 solemnity of the English-speaking waiter, led his diminutive 
 hostess to the table. 
 
 Three days were spent by the young man in the society 
 of his parents, before a cause which shall be explained sent 
 Jimmy back across the Channel. Had Fate in the person 
 of Mr. Bastock not thus intervened, there is no knowing 
 how or when Jimmy would have had the courage to break 
 the net which seemed to be woven closer round him every 
 hour. Gratitude, decency, common duty, were the meshes, 
 and Jimmy chafed in spirit as they galled him. His parents 
 had taken his impulse as a decision, his passing freak as an 
 irretrievable step. They held it for granted that he had 
 thrown in his lot with theirs ; he told himself that it would 
 be base to do otherwise, infamous to requite their long 
 solicitude, their tremulous care for him, their self -forgetting 
 generosity and unselfishness, by deserting them ; and yet 
 
 20
 
 300 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 he longed that it were possible to free himself from the 
 association that was thraldom — to relieve himself of the 
 sight and sound of them, at once and for ever, without for- 
 feiting his own respect, without being brutal or base. One 
 thing he had determined — he would not retain their money ! 
 The moment it was possible to earn enough to keep body 
 and soul together it should be returned. . . . And this 
 very resolution proved to the Jimmy that sat within Jimmy, 
 judging and condemning ; that in his heart he meant to 
 abandon them, and would ! 
 
 He grew thinner and lost colour in these three days, for 
 he could not eat or sleep ; and his thoughts continually 
 hovered, like dismal, slate-coloured birds, over the ruins 
 of his future, in which Cissy Wade was to have played a 
 prominent part ; but not in the role of a poor man's bride, 
 for which Jimmy felt that she was not fitted. Would she 
 wait until he, her lover, clirubed to eminence and amassed 
 fortune ? For a while Jimmy was quite sure that she would 
 wait, rather enjoying the mystery which he firmly intended 
 should surround his lapse from position, — his loss of fortune, 
 the altered vista of his life. The secret of his birth Cissy 
 should never hear — never ! To no mortal save Mr. Bastock, 
 whose discretion might be relied on, would he ever speak 
 of Madame Tiny and the Colonel. 
 
 Meanwhile, the awful strangeness surrounding James the 
 Full-Sized having rubbed off a little, Madame Tiny and the 
 Colonel evinced a shy, wistful, tremulous affection for 
 their son, and delight in his society. They loaded him 
 with costly trinkets, which he dreaded to refuse ; they 
 questioned him of the life which they had only shared in 
 imagination, and of which they only knew through his 
 letters, and drank in his replies with eager interest, ex- 
 changing solemn looks of wonder at his vast knowledge, 
 and being moved to shrill, infantine laughter by his jests, 
 for Jimmy laboured to seem natural and frank and ga
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 307 
 
 He did not visit the Cirque again, but he encountered the 
 manager of the Mignon troupe, who rejoiced in the name of 
 Lochady, and turned out to be the moustached and dapper 
 gentleman who nightly officiated as guide and interpreter 
 for Miss Minota ; and to that colossal wonder, who occupied 
 rooms in the hotel patronized by the Colonel and Madame 
 Tiny, chiefly for the pleasure of being near her friends, he 
 was formally introduced. 
 
 " Oh my ! — the gentleman who was so polite !" she ex- 
 claimed with a bashful giggle, when her large, round blue 
 eyes descended to the level of Jimmy's face. The story of 
 the young man's gallantry, which Miss Minota related 
 with much detail, gave Jimmy's parents ineffable pleasure. 
 That he should prove chivalrous, a champion of the dis- 
 tressed — was this not one of the great results of a full-sized 
 education % 
 
 " I guess you thought I acted like I was silly !" said the 
 visitor. 
 
 She had dropped in to drink tea with Madame Tiny, and, 
 taking off her hat, the plumes of which swept the ceiling 
 and seriously imperilled the chandeliers, sat comfortably 
 chatting upon the tallest and strongest sofa the apartment 
 boasted. Seated thus, her large, round face was upon a 
 level with Jimmy's as he stood before her offering her a plate 
 of foolish little sugar-cakes. But for the dull pallor of her 
 fair complexion, reminiscent of suet-dumpling underdone, 
 and a prevailing flabbiness, the result of insufficient exer- 
 cise, Miss Minota would have been rather good-looking. 
 She was well-proportioned in her huge way ; and if she had 
 rather lumpy features, and her mouth especially might 
 have lacked decision, she possessed cables of tow-coloured 
 hair, and blue eyes as large as dolls'-saucers ; and the im- 
 pression she gave was of being a kindly, honest, affectionate 
 young woman, who, to be properly appreciated, ought to 
 be looked at through the wrong end of an opera-glass.
 
 308 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 Why, Jimmy asked, should he have thought Miss Minota 
 silly ? 
 
 " Oh, well, because I was so scared," said Miss Minota, 
 with a girlish giggle. " If there's one thing more than 
 another I dasn't face, it's a boy ; and, you bet, boys know 
 it, and lay along for me, the nasty little things !" 
 
 The large frame of Miss Minota was convulsed by a 
 shudder, and the sofa creaked sympathetically. 
 
 " Hattie was always such a nervous girl !" said Madame 
 Tiny, perched in a child's high chair before the tea-tray. 
 
 " It's constitutional," said Miss Minota, tossing her 
 mmense fair head, and drooping her large eyelids. 
 "Madame there is as bold as a lion " — she indicated 
 Madame Tiny, who was struggling with an adult teapot — 
 " but I always was a shy thing. 'Way back home in Amurrka 
 people used to laff at me being so shy. Why, when they 
 came to see me, I'd just run and hide ! And I've cried 
 quarts — nights ; — because it seemed so lonesome to be bigger 
 than 'nybody else. I tried to stop myself growin' by 
 stintin' myself meals ; but I kep' on ; an' pore momma and 
 poppa kep' on too, lettin' down my frocks and lettin' out 
 my bed, until they'd let out all their patience, and poppa 
 concluded it was time to let me out — or the house ! So 
 I was hired out to Slater's travellin' Museum of Mar- 
 vels, an' Dan Slater located me in a car'van with a 
 coloured person to cook for me and do my chores. She 
 was a real good soul ! But it wa'nt long till she was 
 crowded out. Then Dan Slater telescoped two car' vans, 
 and as one of 'em had been made for the giraffe, I got on 
 pretty well. But we quarled soon after, Dan Slater and 
 me." Miss Minota laughed a little, and the sofa creaked 
 responsively. 
 
 " Oh, tell my — tell Mr. Meggatt that funny story !" cried 
 Madame Tiny, pausing in her task of tea-making, with the 
 sugar-tongs grasped in both hands.
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 309 
 
 ' Well," said Miss Minota, with her ponderous drawl, 
 " we were travellin' in the State of Minnesota — and that's 
 how I got my professional name " 
 
 " Her private name is Quilt — Miss Hattie Quilt, of Ver- 
 monsville, New Hampshire," explained the Colonel ; " and 
 ' Minota ' is only ' Minnesota ' with the middle dropped 
 out." 
 
 " Dan's notion !" said Miss Minota, tossing her immense 
 head, adorned with rope-like coils of whitey-yellow hair, 
 and drooping her eyelids. 
 
 : ' Dan allowed Quilt was a mighty slack sort of name 
 for a poster, and so I jest let him have his way. . . . He 
 treated me like his own child — I will say that for Dan ! — 
 until we quarled an' he lawsuited me. . . . You see, we'd 
 pitched in a little one-horse sort of town called Slocum, 
 and the Popular Hall — where Dan set up his exhibits — 
 was a mighty little place — there wa'n't room in it for me, 
 let alone the other shows ! An' by the time Dan started 
 beatin' the drum, an' the folk began to roll up to the pay- 
 place, with the truck they meant to trade off for tickets, 
 I was jest fainthr for a breath of air. So I opened a 
 winder — there was a row of 'em, about my own height from 
 the ground — an' stuck my head out for a breathin' -spell. 
 My ! didn't the folk holler and stare ! An' half of em' 
 stopped outside an' didn't trade for tickets, because they'd 
 seen me for nothin'. And Dan was real mad — and we had 
 words — an' parted — an' Dan lawsuited poppa for seventy 
 dollars, because he said I'd given the show away !" 
 
 " Did he win the case ?" asked Jimmy. 
 But Miss Minota had reared her Alpine form from the 
 sofa, and was taking her leave. " I only dropped in for a 
 minute," she explained, as Madame Tiny exclaimed at the 
 shortness of the visit. " Lochady has arranged for me to 
 receive this afternoon. There's a dozen of 'em comin' to 
 stare. Countesses an' Duchesses — an' Serene Highnesses
 
 310 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 — an' things ! An' I guess I know what I've got to go 
 through. They'll talk about me as ca'am — jest as if I 
 wa'nt there ! an' they'll peek at me through their spy-glasses 
 an' snigger till it's all flesh an' blood can do not to fly out at 
 'em !" said Miss Minota. 
 
 " Hattie, Hattie, my dear !" expostulated Madame Tiny 
 in motherly tones of reproof. 
 
 " You're an angel !" said Miss Minota, with an emphatic 
 nod that placed the chandeliers in greater jeopardy than 
 ever ; " and the best that can be said for me is that I've 
 always known it! and the sooner other people know it" — 
 Jimmy fancied that her tone possessed a shade of personal 
 acrimony — " the better for them ! And I guess it's silly 
 to quarl with my bread-and-butter. But I'm not made 
 of iron, like the Eiffel Tower, an' I reckon I've my feelings. 
 And if the temptation to take up a couple of those gigglin', 
 peekin' women — an' squeeze 'em — an' drop 'em with all 
 the conceit squoze right out of 'em, gets the better of me 
 one of these days, it won't be for want of good advice!" 
 She came down from the ceiling to kiss the little woman 
 heartily. "Good-bye, you best of dears!" said the affec- 
 tionate girl. "Au revore, Colonel — see you to-night ! Good- 
 bye, Mr. Meggatt, in case we shouldn't meet again." She 
 engulfed in her vast palm the hand that Jimmy extended, 
 and went away to receive the Countesses, Duchesses, Serene 
 Highnesses, and things. 
 
 The Colonel saw her out with his usual politeness, and 
 came back to Jimmy. He had been even more quiet than 
 usual all day ; his brow wore painful puckers, and the dark 
 circles under his tired little grey eye& looked as if the boy 
 had been sitting up later than ever. He had his hand at 
 the breast - pocket of his little tweed morning-coat, and 
 when he said, " I have had a letter from Mr. Bastock, my 
 dear son," it was plain that Bastock had disturbed him. 
 Madame Tiny, too, was sitting in her high chair very
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 311 
 
 quietly, with her small hands folded on the edge of the 
 tea-tray. The painful puckers of the Colonel's forehead 
 were reflected upon hers, and her eyes strayed anxiously 
 between her son and her husband. 
 
 " Bastock has told your mother and me," said the 
 Colonel, bringing out the letter, " something which you 
 thought it better not to confide to us." 
 
 Jimmy knew instantly what that was. 
 
 " There is a certain young lady," the Colonel went on, 
 " a wealthy and beautiful young lady, into whose society 
 you have been much thrown. An attachment has sprung 
 up between you — it has resulted in an engagement. Bas- 
 tock, who seems to hear everything, has heard this from 
 Mr. Pawley Wotherspoon, who got his information from 
 Miss Wade's brother, your fellow-student in the law." 
 
 The Colonel put back the letter in his pocket with an 
 agitated hand. 
 
 " We don't blame you for keeping your secret to yourself, 
 my dear son," he said, with lips that were curiously white 
 and dry. " But the news has come upon us suddenly. 
 Your mother and me have talked things over, and we feel 
 bound to ask, ' Have you told this young lady who loves 
 you — whom you have engaged yourself to marry — who 
 and what your parents are V " 
 
 Full-Sized James flushed a burning red from the white 
 line of his collar to his forehead. He shook his head, 
 looking high over the Colonel's at the opposite wall. 
 
 " There hasn't been much time, to be sure !" said the 
 Colonel. " But you can give us an answer to the question, 
 ' When do you intend to tell her V my dear son." 
 
 Jimmy found himself saying, in a small, thin voice that 
 he had heard in Bastock's office, and which was curiously 
 like the Colonel's, " I shall never tell her !" 
 
 " She must be told !" 
 
 It was Madame Tiny who had spoken, with sudden de-
 
 312 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 cision and energy, pointing an infinitesimal finger sternly 
 at Full-Sized James. 
 
 The profound absurdity of defending or excusing himself 
 to a creature so small and childish, was patent to him even as 
 he stammered, " It's not possible ! . . . I say, it's not 
 possible ! . . . You don't realize. ... It couldn't be 
 done ! She would — she would never — it would be the 
 end of — of everything ! Can't you understand V He 
 choked. 
 
 " She must be told !" reiterated Madame Tiny shrilly, 
 and without relaxing the stern, judicial finger. " Go and 
 tell her ! If you're worthy of her love, go and tell her ! If 
 she's worthy of yours, will she honour or despise you for 
 doing what's right ? Even if she casts you off — breaks your 
 heart, and mine with grief for you — go and tell her ! What 
 did we send you to that great school for, but to learn Truth 
 and Honour — to grow to be a gentleman amongst gentle- 
 men, instead of a dwarf amongst dwarfs ? Go and tell her, 
 and then," cried the tiny creature, clasping her hands, 
 while the tears ran down her face, " and then, my poor, 
 poor boy ! we'll ask your pardon and hers — upon our bended 
 knees !" 
 
 " Mother !" cried the Colonel, as Madame Tiny fell out of 
 her high child's chair into his arms ; " Mother !" 
 
 " Father !" cried the little creature, clinging to him ; 
 " something came homo to me with such a flash as I set 
 there just now. We've wronged our boy instead of right i Qg 
 him ; we've been cruel where we meant to be most kind. 
 With all our love and care, we've laid up for him — and 
 for the child of other parents — disappointment and grief 
 and shame ! What were two little things like us about to 
 set ourselves against Fate ? How blind we've been, my 
 dear, my dear ! when we thought ourselves most far-seeing ! 
 And it's me — it's me that brought it all about from the 
 very beginning ! Oh, my husband !" cried Madame Tiny,
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 313 
 
 wringing her hands ; " oh, my husband, what have I 
 done ?" 
 
 She was moaning and rocking herself upon the Colonel's 
 breast in quite a desperate agony of self -reproachful grief 
 as Jimmy shrank out of the room. When, on reaching the 
 lower vestibule, he found that he had forgotten his hat, 
 and stole back for it, it was to find the two little creatures 
 who had brought him into the world still entwined and 
 sobbing in the chair he had recently vacated ; and looking, 
 in the midst of a forest of tall furniture, like a pair of middle 
 aged Babes in the Wood. So Full-Sized James did not 
 fetch his hat after all, but crept away again and sent a 
 waiter for it ; and left Paris by the night train, and called 
 upon Mr. Bastock in his office near the Strand immediately 
 upon his arrival in London. 
 
 " I'm to promise never to tell, that's what you want ?" 
 said the shrewd little man. " And, after keeping a secret 
 for twenty-one years, it ought to be easy to keep it for 
 another twenty. But your mother was right in advising 
 you to take the young lady into your confidence. I've 
 seen too much of life not to know that reserved facts leak 
 out, my boy — leak out ; and worse breaches are caused by 
 1 sparing people pain,' as people are fond of calling that sort 
 of selfishness, than ever were made by telling the truth. 
 However, it's not my business !" And, with his mind thus 
 relieved, Jimmy went back to his chambers in Student's Inn 
 Court and his legal studies under Mr. Pawley Wotherspoon. 
 
 And in June Cissy and Mrs. Wade came up to town. 
 They would go about a great deal, and Jimmy went with 
 them, carrying his sick heart into galleries, theatres, shops 
 — all sorts of lively places where full-sized people amused 
 themselves. The mothers and sisters of men he had known 
 at Harrow, prompted by their male relatives, were kind to 
 him, and his chimney-glass was fringed with cards of invita- 
 tion to smart houses. But, wherever he might go, he was
 
 314 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 not at case ; his manner was jerky, his glance unsteady. 
 The secret he carried in his bosom wore away his flesh. 
 He grew moody, absent, and shy. People left off finding 
 Jimmy Meggatt a delightful young fellow ! 
 
 He was almost the old Jimmy when alone with Cissy, until 
 the sharp suspicion that she might discover, without any 
 revelation upon his part, what he so fiercely desired to 
 keep unknown, began to haunt him. All these weeks he 
 had not written to Paris ; he had not received any letter ; 
 he did not know whether the Marvellous Mignons were still 
 fulfilling their engagement at the Cirque, or whether they 
 had taken wing elsewhere. He was devoured by the sus- 
 picion that the Colonel might write to Mrs. Wade ; that 
 Madame Tiny, in her passion for candour, might communi- 
 cate with Cissy. He lived upon thorns, cherishing this 
 dread. The agony he suffered was pitiable. He ground 
 his teeth sometimes to keep himself from shrieking out the 
 truth, the horrible truth, which would kill Cissy's love with 
 one lightning-stroke, and leave him desolate among his 
 many friends. 
 
 And so the weeks spun on, and he had got, without 
 knowing it, through some three hundred of the five thousand 
 pounds. When he realized this, he had some moments of 
 self-contempt, and spurred himself to superhuman efforts 
 of reading under Mr. Pawley Wotherspoon. But he soon 
 relapsed into his old occupation of waiting and watching, 
 watching and waiting, for the dawning of that look of cold, 
 repelling fear, contempt, dislike, in Cissy's eyes. 
 
 " Why do you look at me so often as if you expected me 
 to turn into somebody else ?" Cissy asked once. 
 
 Jimmy would have put her off with some lover-like plati- 
 tude about a fairy or an angel, but Cissy shook her pretty 
 head soberly, twisting a button of his coat. 
 
 " You're always asking me if I ' still care ' to do this, or 
 whether I ' still like ' to have that. You seemed actually
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 315 
 
 to doubt, the other day, whether I really kept your letters ? 
 You came back three times afterwards to say ' Good- 
 night,' and I want to ask you a question." 
 
 " Yes 1" Jimmy would have liked to shut his eyes. But 
 he faced the expected knife-thrust. 
 
 " Jimmy dear, when you went to see your people in Paris, 
 did you tell them — about our engagement ?" 
 
 ' They learned of it," said Jimmy, with an awful effort, 
 " after a little while." 
 
 " Were they — Colonel and Mrs. Meggatt — pleased ?" 
 Cissy asked, twirling a rose Jimmy had given her between her 
 slim white fingers and blushing like a rose herself. " Or — 
 I have sometimes fancied — didn't they like it ?" 
 
 " Why should they not be pleased ? Why should they 
 not like it ?" asked Jimmy hardily. 
 
 ; ' Because " — Cissy rubbed her soft cheek against his 
 arm and hesitated — " because, after all, father was a 
 tradesman ! . . . Not that I am ashamed of that " — she 
 straightened her white throat proudly. " But still, the 
 Wades, as' far back as the Wades go, have all wrapped 
 things up in paper and tied them round with string, and 
 taken money for them over a counter, whether they did 
 these things themselves or paid other people to do them. 
 And it occurred to me that Colonel Meggatt might think 
 that you — that you were disgracing your family and 
 marrying beneath you in marrying me !" 
 
 Jimmy was vividly conscious at that moment of the exact 
 social position occupied by the family to which Cissy 
 referred. He stared at the reflection of his face in the glass 
 over Cissy's bronze-coloured hair, and there were painful 
 puckers about his brow, and black circles under his eyes 
 which reminded him of the Colonel. He grasped his own 
 character in that moment as he had never done, realizing 
 the indecision, irritability, weakness, of that reflected face. 
 
 He developed thenceforth that symptom indicative of
 
 316 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 the oppressed conscience or the perplexed mind which 
 seeks relief in putting to persons — for preference, strangers 
 who appear sagacious, — hypothetical cases resembling its 
 own. Thus, on being introduced by a friend, at whose 
 table he was dining, to a great and celebrated surgeon, 
 who was also a Professor of Physiology, he put, with an 
 intensely unreal effect of being haphazard and undesigning, 
 and with a laboured pretence of having read the story in a 
 newspaper, the case to him. 
 
 " An uncomfortable position, certainly," said the great 
 man, who was so great that, when he said anything, other 
 people nearly left off talking to listen. He had an odd, 
 drawling hesitation in his speech, which can only be con- 
 veyed by the writer with difficulty. " Unpleasant dis- 
 covery for the — arah ! — for the young man ! Resulting in 
 difficulties to cope with which would require more — arah ! — 
 intellectual power, will, — arah ! — good-feeling and con- 
 scientiousness, than the young man would — arah ! — be 
 likely to possess." 
 
 " Dwarfs are brainy little beggars, as a rule !" said a man 
 sitting near, for the ladies had, according to the old- 
 fashioned usage in vogue at this particular house, left the 
 table. " Why shouldn't the full-sized son of a dwarf be 
 as brainy as his father ? And the 3 r oung fellow has been 
 brought up among ordinary people — nothing in his sur- 
 roundings to stunt his ideas, and so forth, I take it ?" 
 
 The distinguished surgeon lifted his grey, bushy eyebrows 
 to glance over his gold-rimmed glasses, and turned his chair 
 carefully in the direction of the speaker. " On the — arah ! 
 — contrary, there has been everything in his surroundings 
 and the influences brought to bear upon him — from child- 
 hood to — arah ! — manhood — that could contribute to stunt 
 his mental developments and warp his mind. He has been 
 brought up to consider nobody but himself ; he has imbibed 
 the prejudices, as he has acquired the manners, of a class to
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 317 
 
 which he does not belong ; no — arah ! — human creature has 
 claimed from him — arah ! — affection, or sympathy, or con- 
 sideration, or self-sacrifice ! He is — arah ! — bound by no 
 natural ties or homely associations. Self is the pinnacle 
 on which he stands ; self the horizon that bounds his — arah ! 
 — outlook ; he is the be-all and end-all of his own narrow 
 existence. Better for the — arah ! — young man to have 
 been bred amongst dwarfs, to have lived amongst them, 
 and — arah ! — learned to think and feel, and — arah ! — love 
 and suffer, with dwarfs ; than to have attained to the 
 physical stature of ordinary manhood, and remained, in 
 heart, and mind, and soul, a pigmy !" 
 
 " To think and feel, and love and suffer, amongst dwarfs," 
 quoted the man who had spoken before. " I suppose they 
 do, you know, all that ? But I don't envy the unfortunate 
 chap his family-tree ! Although I've seen an oak three 
 hundred years old growing in a Japanese flower-pot." 
 
 Jimmy, very pale, referred to the question of the unfortu- 
 nate young man's engagement. Would he be justified in 
 keeping the secret of his parentage from the lady ? 
 
 " If he does — he's what I call a sweep !" said the man 
 who had spoken before, with great plainness. 
 
 " If he does, he will be acting exactly as a young man of 
 his moral calibre might be expected to act," said the man 
 of science. " He will be true to himself, if not — arah ! — 
 strictly honourable to the — arah ! — young lady." 
 
 The man who had spoken before grunted, and Jimmy 
 passionately hated him. But he took leave with all the 
 ease he could command, as he had an engagement to take 
 some ladies to the theatre. When he had gone, the man 
 who had grunted said, as he filled his glass, " I wonder, now, 
 if that was a real case or a faked-up newspaper story ?" 
 
 And the distinguished surgeon said, as he snipped off 
 the end of a fresh cigar, " Oh yes ! it was a real case. It — 
 arah ! — was his own !"
 
 318 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 " Good God !" cried the other man. " How do you know 
 it?" 
 
 " His frightened eyes betrayed him," said the great 
 surgeon, " and his hands. Didn't you observe them 
 twitching on the table-cloth, shading his eyes, sheltering 
 his mouth, as we talked ? Delicate little hands women 
 admire and pay him compliments about, I have no doubt. 
 But they're hands that tell their story — at least, to a scien- 
 tific observer." He drank his liqueur thoughtfully. 
 
 " So Meggatt's parents are circus-dwarfs !" said the 
 other man. " He's been bred and educated as a gentle- 
 man. I wonder will he pluck up and tell the truth to that 
 girl he's going to marry, in spite of all ?" 
 
 He very nearly did tell her, in the softly-lighted drawing- 
 room, as he and she sat together, waiting while Mrs. Wade 
 put on her opera-cloak. But he hesitated, and was lost — 
 or saved. Then Mrs. Wade joined the young people, and 
 they got into the hired brougham, and she said to Jimmy : 
 " Tell the coachman to drive to the Theatre of Equitation, 
 near Leicester Square." 
 
 Jimmy's ears burned. 
 
 " You are going V 
 
 " To the Circus !" said Cissy, with a happy little laugh. 
 " I didn't tell you before, because I don't believe you like 
 circuses. But you can't help yourself. We're unprotected 
 females, and you have to take us — or be rude and say you 
 won't go!" 
 
 Indeed, Jimmy longed to say that. But he gave the 
 coachman the direction and got meekly into the carriage. 
 The Theatre of Equitation was very like the Paris place, 
 with its equine groups of statuary, its immense painted 
 dome ; the changing numbers in a glaring round glass eye 
 that signified the different turns ; the upholstery, the gilding, 
 the blaze of light, and the throng of people. Their seats 
 were in the stalls, three rows from the ring. The perform-
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 319 
 
 ance had long ago commenced. Jimmy took the programme 
 an attendant offered, glanced at it, and leaned back in 
 his seat, sick at heart, for the Marvellous Mignons were 
 billed to appear. There was no escaping Fate ; the minia- 
 ture gilded coaches, drawn by their diminutive steeds, 
 were at that moment driven into the ring. The Mignons 
 got out ; there was the Colonel ; there was Madame 
 Tiny. . . . 
 
 " What odd little creatures !" cried Cissy in a gay aside 
 to Jimmy, who made a sound in response. He was waiting, 
 waiting for the awful moment when the whole troupe of the 
 dwarfs, arm-in-arm, should pass, as was their custom, in 
 procession round the ring. He saw them lifted up like 
 dolls by their attendants ; he would have seen them if he 
 had shut his eyes. Twenty times the idea of escaping — of 
 getting up and rushing away — occurred to him in as many 
 seconds. But he had no strength to carry it out. The 
 springs of life were low in him, and he only sat and waited 
 as his Fate drew near. The chorus of comments — admiring, 
 pitying, jeering — rose up as the little people promenaded 
 past, smiling and bowing, the big-headed little man with 
 the wizened face escorting the deformed little lady ; another 
 couple, and yet another couple ; then Madame Tiny on the 
 Colonel's arm. 
 
 The dwarfs passed by ; the ordeal was over. Jimmy knew 
 that his father and mother had seen him ; that they guessed 
 who his companion must be. Both had looked at him as 
 they went by, with sorrowful, questioning, appealing faces. 
 He knew that he had summoned up the desperate courage 
 to meet their look with the hard, indifferent stare of a 
 stranger, and that what he had done could never be ex- 
 plained or undone ; that he was an outcast by his own deed 
 from the community of honourable men, a thing to be 
 despised, a traitor and a coward ! Did the Colonel think 
 so as he stood before his little table juggling with the china
 
 320 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 candlestick and the lighted candles ? He bungled nearly 
 all his tricks, and Madame Tiny did not appear to give her 
 celebrated imitations from the music-halls. An apology 
 was made for her by the dapper Lochady ; the heat had 
 affected Madame with faintness, he explained. And the 
 performance came to an end with a display of fireworks 
 and a Grand Water Carnival in the flooded arena, and 
 Jimmy took Cissy and her mother away, and put them in 
 their carriage, and slunk home to his chambers in the 
 Temple, feeling dull, and lonely, and preternaturally old. 
 He could not go to bed. To He there in the dark remember- 
 ing would have been too ghastly : so he lighted his fire 
 and sat over the crackling blaze until the coals burned red 
 and showed him pictures in them — small wizened faces, 
 like those of children precociously grown old ; sorrowful, 
 appealing, shocked, like the faces that had turned upon 
 him as the dwarfs went by. . . . 
 
 " God bless Full-Sized James, wherever he goes !" the 
 Colonel had said. It was an infinitely httle James, a mere 
 midge compared with the Colonel, who had demonstrated 
 that night which way he meant to go ; who had lived 
 and thriven on the bounty of the hapless httle creatures 
 who had given him life; who had taken their gifts and 
 spoken them fair, and denied them and cast them off. 
 
 Pride had died in Jimmy that day in Bastock's office, but 
 vanity and self-esteem had lived, to get their death-blow 
 from the distinguished surgeon in the after-dinner conversa- 
 tion of a few hours before. They died during this lonely 
 night of vigils ; and, as Jimmy surveyed their corpses by the 
 faint glow of the dying embers, and streaks of daylight 
 began to outline the window-blinds, there was a hollow 
 rumbling of wheels down in the flagged court below. After 
 a moment, the bell rang, and there was a great knocking. 
 He got up and threw open his window and leaned out. 
 The sky, framed by the square of high roofs and tall chim-
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 321 
 
 neys, was a grey-white emptiness fearful to see ; the pale 
 stars burned coldly behind black crape-like veils of vapour, 
 and the cold breath blew upon him that is the sigh of this 
 sad world when it awakens to yet another day. 
 
 There was a four-wheeled cab in Student's Inn Court, 
 and a cabman in wet oilskins — for it had rained — was 
 pounding at the outer door. 
 
 "What is it? Who do you want?" called Jimmy, 
 craning his neck over the window-sill. 
 
 " There's somefink or someone in my keb — blest if I 
 know which !" the cabman called back huskily, " a-wantin' 
 a party of the name of Meggatt, as lives at Number Five." 
 
 " It's me — I'll come !" said Jimmy, and he ran down- 
 stairs, unfastened the door, and stepped forth into the chill 
 dawning. 
 
 " Oh my, there he is !" cried a voice from the cab — a 
 mooing, plaintive voice Jimmy had heard before. He tried 
 to look into the cab, but it was full of something. He 
 opened the cab-door, and, after a vast upheaval, little by 
 little from the interior of the vehicle emerged the over- 
 whelming personality of Miss Minota. 
 
 It was a wonder that a bulk so vast could ever have been 
 stowed into so small a space, and the cabman seemed to 
 feel it bitterly as he looked into the vehicle and out again 
 at his fare, who stood upon the damp flagstones sobbing 
 bitterly, with a handkerchief held to her eyes. 
 
 " What has happened ?" Jimmy was beginning, when 
 
 Miss Minota put away the handkerchief and lowered upon 
 him moist, indignant eyes. 
 
 " You may well ask," sobbed the giantess, " with me 
 a-driving through these dreadful streets in a thing no bigger 
 than a Saratoga on wheels, and lookin' out at street-corners 
 swarming with nasty little boys, to ask my way to Mr. 
 James Meggatt's chambers !" Tears as big as hailstones 
 rolled down her large, pale cheeks; she was genuine in her 
 
 21
 
 322 FULL-SLZED JAMES 
 
 emotion and her grief. " But there was no one else to 
 come ! For I wouldn't, not for a crown of stars, hear of 
 the Colonel leavin' the bed where that best and gentlest 
 of tender hearts — thanks to the ingratitude of a certain 
 person I'd shake for half-a-cent — is lying broken !" 
 
 " Is my mother — ill ?" asked Jimmy, without the slightest 
 doubt as to the cause. 
 
 " Is she sick ? Well she may be !" cried the wrathful 
 Miss Minota. " With such a son as she's got, I guess it 
 'ud be a wonder if she wa'ant ! But if them that has a right 
 to be a comfort to her turns against her, an' wounds her 
 loving soul to death, I'll risk it but what I'll have 'em down 
 upon their bended knees to beg her pardon before she goes 
 out of this mean, mean world into one that's good enough 
 for her if angels live in it ! So get into that hack, you 
 wretched little crittur', and come right back to her along 
 with me !" 
 
 In the mighty grasp of Miss Minota, Jimmy was impelled 
 towards the cab, as the coachman, who had hitherto 
 nursed a sense of injury in silenoe, placed himself before 
 the open door. 
 
 "Oh no, you don't — not much!" he said sarcastically. 
 " I've 'ad enough, and so 'as my 'orse. Wot I drives is a 
 keb — that's what it is — an' not a bloomin' kerryvan ; so 
 pay me my fare — a dollar an' a 'arf won't stand me in near 
 wot you've took out o' the animal and the machine, and 
 let me go 'ome to the Mews." 
 
 " I guess I'll pay you when you drop me and this gentle- 
 man at the hotel, you rude old person !" said Miss Minota 
 sternly, " and not before !" She advanced upon the cab- 
 man, and he hastily abandoned the argument and climbed 
 upon his box again, Jimmy, at Miss Minota's direction, 
 getting up beside him. The cabman's eyes were bulging 
 with suppressed indignation, and his complexion was of 
 apoplectic purple, but he restrained the vocal expression
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 323 
 
 of his feelings, even when Miss Minota leaned her elbow upon 
 the roof of the cab and again told him where to go. They 
 went very slowly, and Jimmy could not feel as if the whole 
 thing were anything but a dream, the familiar streets creep- 
 ing by in the grey morning light, the horse's back moving 
 up and down, and the giantess, as he saw her whenever 
 he glanced back through the rattling front-window, sitting 
 on the floor of the vehicle with her head jammed against 
 the roof and her knees in painful juxtaposition with her 
 chin, nodding at him whenever he caught her tearful eye, 
 and rapping on the glass to cry out, " Hurry, Hurry !" 
 
 And then the cab stopped at a great building near the 
 embankment, and Jimmy was paying the cabman, whose 
 feelings had now found relief in profanity, and Miss Minota, 
 looking quite small, was standing under the arohway of a 
 lofty, dimly-lighted vestibule, beckoning him to hurry — 
 always to hurry ! 
 
 " Madame was always puny, though she showed such a 
 spirit," she said, leading the way upstairs. " Me an' the 
 Colonel knew that, though we hadn't no idee she had a 
 heart-complaint till a doctor was called in in Paris, quite 
 lately, to attend her in a f aintin' spell, and told us she might 
 never rally from the next one — jest as ca'am. . . . An' 
 last night," said Miss Minota, with a heaving breast, turning 
 to confront Jimmy on an upper landing, " I guess you know 
 what happened last night ! Flcsh-and-blood is flesh-and- 
 blood, and we all have our weak spots ; an' love's a thing 
 there's no reckonin' with, as I found out myself when a 
 young man in N'York, a clerk in a dry-goods store, pro- 
 posed to smuggle me out of Kneeman's Star Circus by the 
 back-way and elope with mo on the cars ! But I guess 
 there don't go considerable of a blessin' in gettin' a thing 
 you've wanted — not if you've stood upon your mother's 
 heart to reach it!" 
 
 She said all this at railroad speed, in a white heat of grief
 
 324 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 and indignation, and without pausing in the long, swift 
 strides that covered so many stairs, while Jimmy plodded 
 patiently behind. It was a relief to him to be rated ; he 
 did not hear the accusing voice in his own heart while Miss 
 Minota's was raised in condemnation. And then they 
 were in a large bedroom, where, in a great bed, under a 
 huge, lace-draped canopy, Madame Tiny lay, with the 
 Colonel, red-eyed and disconsolate, perched by her side. 
 He merely looked up as his son came in, and then only to 
 shake his head, and frame with his lips the words that found 
 their silent echo in the tiny wizened face within the bed : 
 
 " No hope ! Sinking fast !" 
 
 Jimmy was conscious of a curious drowning sensation, and 
 the room, with its occupants, the vast bed, and the still 
 little creature in it, spun round and round. But the huge 
 grasp he had felt before was on his shoulder, and Miss 
 Minota's large face loomed threateningly over him as she 
 whispered in his ear : 
 
 " If your mother's dyin', she's got to die happy ! She's 
 sorrowed an' longed and grieved most of her life. She's 
 a-goin' to die happy now if I'm a sinner for ever ! Don't 
 you dast to contradict me — whatever I say ! Act up and 
 lie — you little crittur, you ! — if you call yourself a Christian 
 man !" 
 
 She went down upon her knees to bend over the childlike 
 figure in the great bed, and the tears splashed upon the 
 pillows like the forerunners of a thunder-shower. 
 
 " Oh, my best and tenderest of friends and mothors !" 
 cried Miss Minota. " He's here ! He's come back to you, 
 your boy as you've loved so dear, an' bore so much for — 
 sorry, an' grateful, an' repentant, an' lovin', an' all as he 
 should be ! An' he's acted straight an' honest, an' told the 
 truth to that young lady, an' she says it don't make a mite 
 of difference, an' any son might be proud of such a mother ! 
 That's her message ! And she'd have come to bring it
 
 FULL-SIZED JAMES 325 
 
 herself, but she guessed you'd think she intruded — not bein' 
 properly introduced ! . . . Back me up !" she ordered 
 Jimmy with her eyes, as Madame Tiny's eyes opened, and a 
 smile fluttered about the corners of her faded little lips. 
 " Say as I say !" 
 
 And Jimmy said, like a child repeating a lesson : " It 
 doesn't make a bit of difference. And any son might be 
 proud of such a " 
 
 Something plucked at his heart. The tears burst from 
 his eyes. He tried vainly to articulate the word those 
 wistful eyes besought from him, and choked, and fell upon 
 his knees beside the bed. Something very light and small 
 touched and rested on his head. 
 
 " God bless Full-Sized James " said the merest thread of a 
 voice, " and his dear wife — wherever they go !" And 
 Madame Tiny very quietly and unobtrusively departed. 
 
 Upon a certain night, not long after, the Colonel said, 
 shaking his son's hand, as they stood together upon the 
 platform at Euston Station before the starting of the Liver- 
 pool steamer-train. " Good-bye, my dear son. You have 
 been a great comfort to me since your dear mother ." 
 The little gentleman glanced down at his mourning-clothes 
 and up at his son, and the circles round the boy's eyes were 
 deeper than ever. He dropped something on the platform 
 as he felt for his handkerchief, and a passing stranger, 
 picking up the glove, handed it to Jimmy, saying : " Pardon 
 me, but your little brother . . ." The stranger caught fche 
 Colonel's eye, and evaporated with an incoherent apology 
 as the Colonel said : 
 
 "I take Hattie across to New York with me. As you know, 
 me and her have settled to exhibit together, and so I sever 
 our — my connection with the Mignon Troupe for good. 
 Lochady approves of the idea, which was Hattie's, as you 
 have heard. . . . She is a good, tender-hearted girl, and no 
 father could wish a more devoted daughter than she has
 
 326 FULL-SIZED JAMES 
 
 been to me ever since . . ." His eye reverted to his black 
 clothes. " It's a pretty cemetery, Norwood," the Colonel 
 continued, " and the monument is a handsome one, and full- 
 sized, as mother would have wished. . . . You'll go there 
 sometimes, my dear son V 
 
 They had gone there together that morning with Cissy. 
 As they grasped hands, the Colonel said, missing her, 
 " Where is Miss Wade ?" 
 
 She was in the saloon-carriage specially retained for the 
 use of Miss Minota, bidding an affectionate good-bye to 
 that tender-hearted creature, who was crying behind her 
 vast crape veil. 
 
 " I'll feel more content to leave her, lying so quiet there, 
 and less guilty in my conscience, for knowin' that what I 
 told the dear soul wa'nt a real lie, but a kind of beforehand 
 truth !" said Miss Minota. " An', if I grieve for her more'n 
 her own son — who couldn't be expected to fret so much, 
 not knowin' her as I did — I hope she'll forgive me. I'm 
 that mussed up with cryin' I dasn't look out of the winder 
 to bid Mr. Meggatt good-bye ; but I guess he won't bear me 
 any gretch for the names I called him. When I've thought 
 what a dretful forward thing it was of me — goin' to a 
 gentleman's apartments in the middle of the night — I 
 tremble all over, I really do ! Good-bye, dear, again. . . . 
 I shall damp you all off if I kiss you, I guess ! There's the 
 locomotive whistlin' ! Oh Lawd ! Colonel, ain't you comin' 
 in ? Suppose the cars was to slide off and leave you I 
 should be scared out of my life ! . . . A girl wants protec- 
 tion travellin'," said Miss Minota.
 
 XXII 
 
 A NEW LEAF 
 
 The Honourable Edward Fulke Coppinger Wilberbridge, 
 not very long before gazetted a dandy Lieutenant of the 
 Light Cavalry Regiment, known outside the Army List 
 as the "Strawberry Roan Dragoons" — the Hon. Edward 
 had been paternally advised by his Colonel to seek change 
 of air and scene — not upon the gambling northern seaboard 
 of the Mediterranean or the electric -lighted boulevards of 
 Paris, but somewhere abroad — until old Lord Mangold of 
 Wurzels, a Right Honourable Privy Councillor of strict 
 morals and acid constitution, should have got over an attack 
 of righteous indignation, induced by disgust at the irregu- 
 larities of his nearest relative, and the prematurely grey- 
 headed trustees of the Hon. Edward's late father's will 
 should have raised the wind sufficiently to settle an un- 
 usually thick crop of racing debts. 
 
 The Hon. Edward, pledged to turn over the first new leaf 
 of an unbroken series by conducting himself with the 
 strictest propriety while away on leave, found himself 
 within eight days upon a Hungarian racecourse. Much of 
 the rustle had been taken out of the Lieutenant by his 
 January failures at Nottingham, Newbury, and Kempton 
 Park, but a man's ruling passion is stronger than the man, 
 and a racecourse, even in Eastern Europe, is better — in the 
 opinion of a young gentleman as passionately devoted to 
 the chase as was this one — than none at all. The horses 
 were miserable screws, oddly caparisoned, and flogged by 
 elementary jockeys with heavily-plaited leather whips. 
 
 327
 
 328 A NEW LEAF 
 
 Jews in black silk gaberdines, side-curls, and inverted 
 chimney-pot hats, gave and took the odds in the depreciated 
 silver florin and the copper kreutzer, under gigantic blue- 
 and-yellow silk umbrellas. Gipsies, pedlars, and riff-raff of 
 all hues and descriptions, mingled with the crowds of 
 festively-attired townsfolk and peasantry ; and the Honour- 
 able Edward was fain to acknowledge that if the horseflesh 
 was below par, the dreamy, dark-eyed, classically-featured 
 Roumanian and Magyar women in their rich and pictur- 
 esque costumes were well worth looking at. 
 
 Standing on the box of a dilapidated pair-horse waggon- 
 ette, his well-set-up, athletic figure attired in tweeds, 
 knickers, and gaiters of the most recent sporting fashion, 
 his green Tyrolean hat, a jay's blue wing-feather in the 
 band of it, pushed well to the back of his head, his racing- 
 glass glued to his eyes, the Honourable Edward,;as a foreigner 
 of apparent social condition, and obvious good looks, com- 
 manded a fair share of feminine attention. The third 
 event of the day had ended grotesquely in a collision at the 
 post, and a rough-and-tumble fight, in which jockeys, 
 owners, and judges, indiscriminately took part. The police 
 looked upon the fray with languid interest, the crowd 
 seethed and bubbled, while the spectators in the Grand 
 Stand tranquilly turned their attention to lunch. To 
 picnic all alone in a rickety waggonette upon a racecourse 
 crowded with jovial parties is not a rollicking experience. 
 The Honourable Edward shrugged as he got out his travel- 
 ling-flask and sandwich-box. The driver, a broad-faced, 
 cheery Magyar, was already deep in the mysteries of a 
 greasy parcel containing cubes of pork fat, red-peppered, 
 and hunks of caraway-seed bread. 
 
 " Chap can't help looking rummy and foreign if he lives 
 on queer grub like that — what ?" reflected the Honourable 
 Edward. " Wonder what the landlady of the Polzvar Hotel 
 has put up for me."
 
 A NEW LEAF 329 
 
 It turned out that she had put up sandwiches of the 
 same kind of caraway-seed bread as the driver was then 
 eating, with thin slices of the same pork fat, hotly red- 
 peppered, between them. The Honourable Edward, with 
 a full-bodied expression of disgust, emptied the sandwich- 
 box upon the grass, and got down to go and look for some- 
 thing wherewith to fill the vacuum behind the middle but- 
 tons of his waistcoat. 
 
 " Angol Baratan, pardon the liberty ..." 
 
 " Eh, what ?" said the Honourable Edward. 
 
 He turned to confront a long, lean, spikily-moustached, 
 rather too perfectly well-dressed man in grey clothes, with 
 a lemon-coloured necktie and a very red nose. 
 
 ' The ladies in the English motor-car over yonder," said 
 the well-dressed, red-nosed man, with a graceful sweep of 
 a grey chimney-pot hat, " have constituted me their 
 ambassador to the English gentleman who honours our 
 local racecourse with his presence. They observed the 
 little episode in connection with your sandwich-case just 
 now, and they beg you to join them at lunch. Permit me 
 to point them out to you — there, a little to the left of the 
 Grand Stand." 
 
 The Honourable Edward's eye followed the cane with 
 which the red-nosed, English-speaking gentleman indicated 
 the locality where hospitality waited. Then it was quenched, 
 with its fellow, in tears of suppressed mirth. Two ladies 
 in the national costume occupied the back seat of a large, 
 handsome, landau-bodied "Flyaway " of about twcnty-fivo 
 horse-power. Hampers were being opened by liveried 
 servants ; a white-gloved hand beckoned the gentlemen 
 to approach. 
 
 " I observe you smile," said the red-nosed elderly gentle- 
 man, as the Honourable Edward, shaking with suppressed 
 guffaws, mopped his tearful eyes. " No, it is not even in 
 this country the fashion to harness horses to motor-cars,
 
 330 A NEW LEAF 
 
 though, as you perceive, four bay nags are attached to our 
 vehicle. The fact is, it only arrived from England yester- 
 day ; the chauffeur who was to have accompanied it is ill 
 with influenza, and nobody upon our estate, not even myself, 
 who should have mastered its working long ago, knows 
 enough of the machine to drive it. Our ladies are impul- 
 sive — they had promised all their female friends that they 
 would attend the Polzvar Races in an English automobile. 
 And, with the assistance of the horses that usually draw the 
 britzchka, they have kept their word." He waved a grey 
 suede glove gracefully. "Come, let us join them!" said 
 he urbanely. 
 
 The Honourable Edward made an excellent luncheon. 
 There were ham in Madeira and truffled chicken ; there 
 were mayomiaise of salmon and fruit salad, dry champagne 
 and mellow Tokay ; and the smiles of beauty were not 
 wanting to the banquet. Enlivened by generous food, 
 warmed by capital wine, and soothed by irreproachable 
 tobacco, the Honourable Edward put down his host as a 
 Magyar noble and magnate of hospitable turn. He had 
 introduced himself as " Polkiegracz, at your service," the 
 ladies as his sister Ilona and his daughter Florizan. Their 
 rich costumes of stiff and vari-coloured silks, covered with 
 antique embroidery and adorned with unique jewellery, 
 their coquettish head-dresses, long thick plaits of silken 
 black hair, adorned with gold and silver coins, their bright- 
 red leather top-boots, set them off to perfection. Every- 
 thing about them denoted lavish expenditure. Even the 
 heavy furs they had thrown aside were of magnificent sable, 
 and the rings adorning the white hands of the aunt and 
 niece were jewels a princess would not have disdained. 
 They spoke no English, but French with a strong Hungarian 
 accent, and both were very, very kind to the young English 
 stranger. 
 
 " Of course the polite old buffer is a Count," thought the
 
 A NEW LEAF 331 
 
 Honourable Edward ; " everybody above the rank of a pork- 
 butcher is a noble in Hungary, I've heard, and the sister 
 and the niece are so uncommonly fetching that if they 
 aren't Countesses they ought to be !" 
 
 " Yes," he said aloud in the open-vowelled French that 
 was as distinctive of Eton as the undone bottom button of his 
 waistcoat. " I made to enjoy the races very well. Possibly 
 more, if the cattle were not invalids so near the sausage- 
 factory ; in my country we despatch them there before they 
 become too much of cripples to go at all. But every country 
 has its customs — that goes without saying. Bet ! No, I'm 
 pledged not to bet just now, Countess, and, besides, your 
 florins frighten me. If I tried to plank my pot in pennies 
 at home, I should feel the same. Do you comprehend ?" 
 
 Countess Florizan said she comprehended perfectly. 
 She sympathized with the young Englishman, so far from 
 all he held dear, and as she did it she sighed. Such beau- 
 tiful, velvety-black eyes in conjunction with so divinely red 
 a mouth and such a peachy skin the Honourable Edward 
 had never before encountered. She was as tall and strong 
 and supple as goddesses when they lived on earth, and upon 
 the new leaf that Teddy had turned over he began to read 
 prophecies for the future that made him think. There 
 might be something better in life, he began to feel, than 
 bridge, huntin', and racin'. Hoav the regiment would open 
 its eyes, how society would stare, if he, Edward Falke Cop- 
 pinger Wilberbridge, were to bring home a wife like the 
 Countess Florizan as captive of his bow and spear ! Every- 
 thing about her spoke of riches ; even the chain of diamonds 
 and rubies she sported in the daytime — a Hungarian habit, 
 he presumed — were a dower in themsolves. Surely the 
 crochety old Privy Councillor would not object to such a 
 life-partner for tho future Lord Mangold of Wurzels ? And 
 Polkiegracz was undoubtedly a person of consequence in 
 Polzvar, judging by the attention he excited on the course.
 
 332 A NEW LEAF 
 
 Racing-glasses followed every movement of his or the ladies, 
 heads nodded as people whispered together, and mous- 
 tached Hungarian nobles and elegant Hungarian ladies 
 bowed in response to the sweep of his grey, chimney- 
 pot hat. 
 
 " Father, the Angol Baratan thinks our motor-car a fine 
 one," said Countess Florizan, showing her dazzling teeth. 
 
 " Indeed ? I am delighted," observed the genial Polkie- 
 gracz. " It cost me a thousand of your English sovereigns," 
 he said, twirling his spiky moustache, and grinning at the 
 Honourable Edward. " I will not frighten you by stating 
 the amount in florins, ha, ha ! Please the Saints ! we shall 
 find it a great assistance to us in this country, where rapid 
 movement expedites business. Does it not, my treasures ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed," sighed the Countess Ilona. 
 
 " It is a thousand pities that the English chauffeur has 
 influenza and cannot drive," said the Countess Florizan, 
 transfixing the susceptible young officer with a shaft from 
 her wonderful eyes. " We might have combined pleasure 
 with profit in our visit to the races to-day." 
 
 " You do not bet, I understand, Count ?" said the 
 Honourable Edward to the polite Polkiogracz. 
 
 " No, no, Angol Baratan, I am no gambler. It suffices 
 me to see other people win," said the courteous Count. 
 " You observe the party on the very handsome yellow coach 
 there, with a team of blacks, the finest horses in the country. 
 Well, the Chief of the Polzvar Police Bureau, that agree- 
 able individual in official uniform who spoke to me just now, 
 tells mo that Prince Stepan Kutzokzi, its owner, has just 
 won a sum of fifty thousand florins, which he has, more- 
 over, been paid. And that one or two gentlemen of his 
 party have been nearly as fortunate." 
 
 " Heavens, beloved father mine !" cried the Countess 
 Florizan. " What a haul ! Ah, if the English chauffeur 
 were only here, we might show Prince Stepan that the
 
 A NEW LEAF 333 
 
 famous team of blacks on which he prides himself are 
 broken-down donkeys compared to an English motor-car. 
 Angol Baratan," she cried, turning to the enamoured Lieu- 
 tenant, " you told us just now that you thoroughly under- 
 stood the working of a machine like this. Could you not — 
 could you not ? " 
 
 The Honourable Edward did not need to be implored twice 
 in such a tone and with such a look from such a young 
 woman as the Countess Florizan. 
 
 " I'll do my best, Countess," he said, blushing a beautiful 
 poppy hue. " If the tyres are all right, and there's petrol 
 in the tank, I don't see why I shouldn't drive you home." 
 
 They unharnessed the bay horses, whose impromptu 
 rope-tackle had tickled the Honourable Edward's sense of 
 humour, and the young English officer overhauled the 
 machine. All was in good order, and ere the close of the 
 final event upon the racing-card the chuff-chuff of the 
 awakened engine sent throbs of rapture through the nerves 
 of the delighted Countesses. Some of the liveried postilions 
 took away tb.^ horses ; two, by order of Count Polkiegracz, 
 took the front seat. The Honourable Teddy, with — oh, 
 joy ! — tho Countess Florizan beside him, drove off the race- 
 course gently, in the wake of the gorgeous yellow coach 
 drawn by the famous team of blacks. 
 
 ( We are going to play what you English call a ' practical 
 joke ' on Prince Stepan," said the Countess, smiles playing 
 over the scarlet lips that the young cavalryman longed to 
 kiss. "All Magyars are passionately fond of them, and 
 my father has made up his mind. Drive slowly at first, 
 please, keeping the yellow coach in view along this moun- 
 tain road before us, until we reach the place where the road 
 winds between a deep gorge on the one side and a precipice 
 on the other ; then put on speed and overtake the Prince. 
 When we have had our little joke, drive on as rapidly as 
 you can. Once we are among the Uzuoi Hills, we are ii» Uj
 
 334 A NEW LEAP 
 
 a fortress ; nobody has ever yet dared to seek my father 
 there." 
 
 And as the beautiful Countess spoke she calmly drew 
 from one of the deep pockets of her sable mantle a hand- 
 some silver -mounted six-shooter, clicked open the breech 
 in a business-like way, shut it, and smiled at the surprised 
 look in the tail of the Honourable Edward's eye. " I have 
 another weapon in the other pocket," she said gaily. ' We 
 Magyar ladies have a habit of going armed. Now — now ! 
 Drive on and overtake the yellow coach." 
 
 The " Flyaway " leapt forward. In an instant it was 
 abreast of the yellow coach with the team of straining 
 blacks. 
 
 " Prince Stepan Kutzokzi," cried the polite voice of 
 Polkiegracz, " pull up, or I shall fire !" 
 
 The smart-looking man on the box of the yellow coach 
 whipped up for all reply. A revolver cracked, and the 
 near leader of the team pitched over. The coach, which 
 narrowly escaped an upset, slewed down the road, almost 
 upon the haunches of the plunging wheelers. Had not the 
 astonished Edward reversed in time, the flying " Flyaway " 
 would have come to grief. 
 
 " I say !" he gasped. 
 
 Something cold pressed against his temple. The muzzle 
 of a six-shooter inspired the refreshing chill, and the 
 Countess Florizan, whose white hand gripped the butt of 
 the weapon, advised the Honourable Edward, in accents 
 grown strangely stern, to say nothing at all. He thought 
 it better not to disoblige the lady. Other six-shooters, 
 wielded by the two servants on the front seat, and by the 
 Countess Ilona, covered the Prince and his infuriated com- 
 panions, as the polite Polkiegracz got down and relieved 
 them of their winnings. Then 
 
 " Forwards and full speed !" cried the dark-eyed Florizan 
 I sftto ear of the bewildered Edward. The " Flyaway "
 
 A NEW LEAF 335 
 
 wormed past the tangled team and the prostrate leader, 
 then leapt like a steel greyhound up the mountain road. 
 * * * * * 
 
 " Your trip has done you good, my dear fellow," said 
 the Colonel ; " you're looking bronzed and fit. Not that 
 I ever had a fancy for touring in Eastern Europe myself. 
 Too many smells, fleas, and brigands, at least to suit my 
 taste ! Were at Polzvar, I understand, in February. At 
 the Polzvar Races a Hungarian chap I met at the last Levee 
 — Prince Stepan Kutzokzi — was held up by a local brigand 
 called Polka — something — and relieved of his Turf winnings 
 to the tune of a hundred thousand florins, he tells me." 
 
 " It was only fifty thousand," said the Honourable 
 Edward incautiously, " and two other men on the Prince's 
 coach had something like twenty thousand between them." 
 
 " Ah, you heard of the affair, then," said the Chief. 
 ' Polka-what's-his-name has an automobile to facilitate 
 business, the Prince tells me. Go-ahead kind of brigand, 
 what ? — and his sister and his daughter — devilishly hand- 
 some wome^, both, according to the Prince, are his accom- 
 plices. The daughter shot the near leader of the Prince's 
 team, or Kutzokzi might have had a chance to get ' home, 
 sweet home ' with the little bit he'd pulled off. Confounded 
 luck, I call it ! Magnificent creature, he says — I mean the 
 girl that shot the horse — and wears jewels fit for an Em- 
 press. Handsome sapphire ring you're wearing, by the 
 way — never saw a finer stone, to my remembrance. Must 
 have cost you a pretty penny." 
 
 " It — it — was a present from a — from a friend," stam- 
 mered the Honourable Edward. 
 
 ' Wish I had a friend who had acquired a habit of 
 givin' away little trinkets of that description," said the 
 Chief facetiously. " Well, you'll have an opportunity of 
 meetin' the Prince. He dines at mess to-night." 
 
 He did, but the Honourable Edward was prevented, by
 
 336 A NEW LEAF 
 
 circumstances over which he had absolute control, from 
 figuring as one of the magnate's numerous hosts. An 
 attack of feverish chill, caught in Eastern Europe, was the 
 ostensible excuse. 
 
 So the Prince missed the shock of meeting at an English 
 regiment's mess-table the chauffeur of Polkiegracz's motor- 
 car ; and a very callow subaltern, who had never seen a live 
 brigand, much less aided him to plunder a Prince and party 
 of seventy thousand florins, or kissed his daughter good-bye 
 at the close of a brief but incandescent flirtation, carried 
 on during three days of semi-captivity — " devilishly 
 pleasant captivity !" the Colonel would have called it — in 
 her rocky mountain home, — proposed the customary loyal 
 toast, whilst the Honourable Edward dined at his quarters, 
 and looked sentimentally at his sapphire ring. 
 
 " I ought to send it back to her, I believe !" he said, and 
 kissed it. " Unless I am a bigger fool than I imagined myself 
 to be, I won't take it, myself, as I promised to. For you're a 
 charming creature, Florizan, and I'm frightful nuts on you ; 
 but you're a trifle too ready with the revolver for me !"
 
 XXIII 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 I shall take it for granted that every frequenter of the 
 London auction-rooms is acquainted with Pringold's 
 Galleries ; not a hundred miles from Piccadilly Che us, a 
 little nearer to Pall Mall ; on the left-hand side, looking 
 west, of a short street ; a cul-de-sac of unblemished respect- 
 ability, barricaded at the upper end by an old-fashioned 
 family hotel. 
 
 Although I am not to be numbered among rich men, I 
 seldom miss a sale at Pringold's Galleries, because a bachelor 
 of moderate means can find a good deal of entertainment 
 in watching other people spend what he has not to spare. 
 Therefore, one raw morning in February, when I groped my 
 way to Pringold's through a monochromatic fog, and, butt- 
 ing up against one of the dropsical plaster pillars of its 
 Palladian facade, knew that I had got there, I passed in by 
 the swing-doors with a pleasant sense of being at home, and 
 having a right to tread the muddy red carpet of the corridor. 
 Other swing-doors admitted me to the room where Prin- 
 gold's periodical sales take place. Here the electric-lights 
 struggled gamely with the fog, and the vacant desk of the 
 auctioneer and his clerk presided over a multitude of empty 
 chairs, arranged as one sees them in a church or an Ameri- 
 can theatre, with an aisle down the middle, and gangways 
 across the room-end and along either side-wall. The 
 great white-faced clock over the central door of three, all 
 
 337 22
 
 338 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 leading to the private offices of the Messrs. Pringold, indi- 
 cated half-past twelve ; and according to the published 
 announcements the sale ought to have begun a quarter of 
 an hour previously. 
 
 " You've got it all to yourself, sir !" said Pringold's giant 
 porter, a vast man of thews, famous for his way of marching 
 down the middle aisle, carrying a piece of Dresden, a 
 diamond necklace, or a Stradivarius violin, a tray of coins, 
 an enamelled snuffbox, or an Old Master in a ponderous 
 frame, at the full stretch of a pair of enormously long 
 arms. I mean," he added, "you and the little lot near the 
 stove." 
 
 The huge attendant glanced at the large white-faced 
 clock, and passed out between the swing-doors leading to the 
 corridor as I approached the group of six persons gathered 
 in the neighbourhood of the anthracite heater, whose tall 
 funnel climbed the wall and went out at a hole under the 
 foggy skylight. There were two ladies and four men. One 
 of the ladies was pale and young, dressed in mourning that 
 sunshine might have shown to be shabby. She occupied 
 one of the inhospitable Windsor chairs on the right of the 
 stove, and next her sat the second lady, who was of obvious 
 middle-age and determined aspect. Even by the inferior 
 light it was possible to read emancipation in her expression ; 
 and the gleam of gold-mounted spectacles added to the 
 sharpness of the eyes that looked through them. She was 
 well-dressed for walking in muddy country lanes, and the 
 boots extended beyond the verge of her shortish tweed 
 skirts were of large size and sensible stoutness. Also her 
 umbrella was the kind with which it would have been pos- 
 sible to hit a market-mad bullock over the head, upon 
 occasion, without spoiling the umbrella. Near her sat a 
 keen-faced, bright-eyed, silken-haired, well-dressed gentle- 
 man, whom I instantly recognized as a citizen of the United 
 States. And in quaint contrast to the American, with his
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 339 
 
 air of quiet resourcefulness and cosmopolitan experience, 
 was his neighbour, an individual with a bulky springless 
 figure and beady grey eyes set near together in a square red 
 face, with little disassociated tufts of flaxen whisker on it. 
 He wore a suit of ginger-coloured cloth, as stiff as a suit of 
 mediaeval armour, and while the village tailor had given 
 him plenty of material in the sleeves, the cuffs of which 
 engulfed his freckled hands to their squat nail-tips, the 
 rustic artist had abbreviated the trouser-legs ; so that when 
 the wearer bent himself into the sitting posture and hitched 
 the garments up, his drab yarn sock-tops were revealed, and 
 the edges of his mustard-coloured underwear. A huge 
 warty stick with a crook at one end and an iron dibble at 
 the other, and a brown bowler hat of great height and exces- 
 sive hardness, completed his general impression — the domi- 
 nant note of it being natural fertilizer, so that no intelligent 
 person could doubt of his being a farmer. 
 
 On the left side of the anthracite stove lounged a young 
 and handsome man whom I had often seen before at Prin- 
 gold's ; an exquisite in a sable-lined and collared overcoat, 
 thrown open so as to reveal the ultimate perfection of 
 morning dress. His cane possessed a handle of carved 
 jade, his tie-pin was a ruby in the matrix, from the short 
 slender chain of gold and platinum that horizontally crossed 
 his dainty vest there hung a Greek coin, the enormous value 
 of which, as a collector, I was able to appraise. . . . Between 
 persons of like tastes and pursuits there is an acquired 
 freemasonry. The wearer of the costly sable-lined coat 
 was subtly conscious that his Greek coin was a greater 
 guarantee of wealth, culture, and refinement in my eyes 
 than the sumptuous garment which might have adorned 
 any brainless Italian opera-tenor or successful operator on 
 the Stock Exchange. He courteously removed his hat 
 from the chair that neighboured his own, and as with a word 
 of thanks I took it :
 
 340 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 " Now our half -circle is complete," he said, in a well- 
 bred, pleasant voice, with a certain suggestion of languor 
 in it, a note of depression perhaps attributable to ill-health, 
 or overmuch luxury. 
 
 He looked, not at me, but the person on my right hand. 
 A broad-shouldered, hollow -chested, weak-eyed man of the 
 superior mechanic-class. I put him down as a compositor 
 until I noticed that his fingers were burned and stained with 
 acids, and then I was inclined to hesitate between a 
 jeweller's workman or a photographer's hack. But the 
 suppleness and delicacy of the stained hands decided me 
 upon his following the more artistic calling ; and with this 
 the man's head, too, was more in keeping, being of spirited 
 and handsome outline, with an upright growth of dark 
 curly hair, and a generous breadth between the brown eyes he 
 turned towards us, that bespoke the possession of the sense 
 of proportion and form. Ideality showed in the rounded 
 arch of the sallow temples, and something not far removed 
 from intellectuality was in the high and forceful expression 
 of the man's features. But his hopeless expression, under- 
 fed appearance and worn garments proved that, however 
 well-equipped by Nature for the fray, he had brought little 
 else but wounds out of the battle of Life. A hacking cough 
 bowed his thin shoulders and convulsed his hollow chest 
 from time to time. After this, with an apologetic look, 
 the man would expectorate into an old red silk handker- 
 chief, and I inwardly was grateful for its colour, as conceal- 
 ing stains that white would have revealed too well. During 
 one of these paroxysms the young Sybarite who wore the 
 Greek coin upon his watch-chain suddenly addressed me 
 with the tone and manner of a cultured gentleman. 
 
 " I wonder why our neighbour with the cough comes 
 here ? Surely a coin-sale can possess no attractions for 
 him ? What interest can he possibly take in the Tribute 
 of Offa ?" 

 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 341 
 
 ' You refer," I said stupidly, for I knew quite well what 
 the speaker meant, " to the hoard of Mercian coins recently 
 found at Glattendon Dyke in the valley of the Upper Trent, 
 and which are to be dispersed under the Pringold hammer 
 in this room to-day ?" 
 
 I had touched a numismaniac in the most sensitive spot. 
 In the pale cheeks of the languid young dandy burned two 
 red patches, and his voice had quite an energetic ring, as 
 he retorted : 
 
 ' The hoard will not be dispersed, sir, for I am going to 
 buy it !" 
 
 Before I could say anything in return, a singularly pene- 
 trating voice broke into the conversation : 
 
 " Sir," said the American gentleman, bending towards 
 the luxurious young man across the irreproachable top-hat, 
 which, in deference to the presence of the ladies, he nursed 
 upon his knee, " Sir, may I be permitted to congratulate 
 you ? Unless my experience of the ways of auction-rooms 
 and auction-roomers, both British and American, is not 
 at fault, an interesting and exciting afternoon is before you. 
 I have observed," the speaker lifted his neatly-gloved hand 
 to his silky moustache, perhaps to control the irrepressible 
 smile that played hide-and-seek in the fine lines about his 
 grave eyes and well-modelled lips, " that ultimate profit is 
 not the aim of the private collector of curios and antiques, 
 but what is humorously termed sport. I wish you good 
 sport to-day, sir, most sincerely." 
 
 ' The bidding will be spirited, I have no reason to doubt, 
 even though a limited number of bidders may be present," 
 rejoined the other ; " but I have carried prizes out of many 
 such fields, and am fairly well accustomed to bear the 
 burden and heat of the scramble." As he spoke he drew 
 a tiny vinaigrette of pale antique gold filagree-work, 
 studded with brilliants, from his vest-pocket, and opening 
 it, inhaled with palpitating nostrils its reviving aroma.
 
 342 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 " This is one of my trophies, by the way, and also by the 
 way, it cost me eighteen hundred." 
 
 " Of your pounds," asked the American coolly, " or our 
 dollars ?" 
 
 " Eighteen hundred pounds !" said the languid owner. 
 He daintily sniffed at the vinaigrette, and placed it in the 
 extended hand of the American, adding, " It belonged to 
 the murdered Princess de Lamballe, and was given by her 
 to the ill-fated Queen of France, Marie Antoinette, during 
 their last meeting in her narrow green-papered cell at the 
 Feuillans, before the martyr-Princess was hurried to the 
 prison of La Force, and the royal family immured in the 
 Temple. The unfounded suggestion of its possibly con- 
 taining poison, furnished Madame Degas, the coarse woman 
 who acted as the Queen's keeper, with an excuse for depriving 
 the anointed victim of the coveted bauble. It was pur- 
 chased from Madame Degas by a person who represented 
 himself as an English dealer in objets d'art, and was really 
 an emissary of M. Gougenot, the King's maitre d'Jidtel. 
 Among this gentleman's most cherished treasures, after his 
 death, was found the diamond vinaigrette with the 
 scrawled receipt of Madame Degas, to which was appended 
 a memorandum in the handwriting of the deceased official. 
 I need not detail the process by which this hallowed trinket 
 passed from possessor to possessor until it found a home in 
 the cabinet of the Duke of Benbridge, at whose decease, 
 in 1904, it was sold at Dixie's with the bulk of the deceased 
 nobleman's collection." The speaker drew a long breath 
 and exhaled it in a sigh, murmuring : " Shall I ever forget 
 that sale ! All the leading connoisseurs, all the great 
 dealers, all the world of Society and Art, jammed in one 
 vast comprehensive crush. It was tremendous !" 
 
 " I recall the event," returned the American pleasantly, 
 " having been one of the sardines present. There was 
 some tall bidding !"
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 343 
 
 " Sensational," agreed the elegant young man. 
 ' The first day's clean-up panned out at ninety-four 
 thousand," said the American, " as a result of the frisky 
 activities of the dealers." 
 
 ' Wynklin won the great prize," said the luxurious 
 amateur, with reminiscent rapture. " His duel with Mr. 
 Cupid Bose over that Regence marqueterie commode which 
 he carried off with a bid of three thousand guineas, was " 
 
 " ./4-stonishing !" said the American. " The climax of 
 screeching finance ! The hall-mark on the enhanced 
 standard of valoos !" 
 
 " Moreen and Blant had set their hearts upon this," con- 
 tinued the young man in sables, gazing with shining eyes 
 at his treasured vinaigrette. " Hoggspice wanted it. The 
 bidding started at sixty guineas, and much to the chagrin 
 of two persons I have named, I became the owner of this 
 priceless relic for the trifling sum of eighteen hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 " Thanks to the graceful and retiring modesty which 
 induced the other gentlemen to back out !" remarked the 
 American gentleman. There was not a spark of malice in 
 his expression, or anything but the blandest cheerfulness, 
 and yet the luxurious young man glanced at him sus- 
 piciously. 
 
 ' I gather," he remarked, with an accent of hauteur, 
 " that in your opinion I have been swindled 1 You impugn 
 the authenticity of this priceless and genuine relic of the 
 martyred Austrian ?" 
 
 The American held up his well-gloved hands in polite 
 deprecation. 
 
 "Sir," he said, "upon the contrary! I Avas taught in 
 early youth, sir, that Santa Claus came down the chimney 
 on Christmas Eve with the parcels I had seen my parents 
 smuggle home from the store. And such early exercises 
 impart elasticity in after-life to the muscles of the mental
 
 344 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 swallowing-apparatus, if I may bo term it. Sir, I may 
 describe myself as the possessor of a twenty-eight horse- 
 power credulity. I have been able to believe, thanks to 
 my excellent parents, that Mr. Amos P. Baker exposed the 
 nefarious public dealings of the Standard Glucose Trust 
 for the benefit of his fellow-creatures ; and that the million- 
 aire owners of sumptuous studios on Madison Avenue put 
 up red- velvet swings and line the walls with looking-glass 
 for the amusement of their lawful wives and spinster rela- 
 tives. And one of the things I believe is, that the Prin- 
 cesse de Lamballe paid a considerable deal less for that 
 smelling- flagon than you have done !" 
 
 And he bowed respectfully to the young connoisseur. 
 
 "Nor do I regret it!" said the other. " You referred 
 just now to the enhanced standard of values. What could 
 enhance the preciousness of a mere jewelled toy more won- 
 derfully than the touch of Marie Antoinette ?" 
 
 " I unite with you in appreciation of the lady," returned 
 the American, " though, judging by her portraits, her 
 profile was too highly stropped, if I may so express it, for 
 the American ideal of beauty. But what I appreciate more 
 is the refreshing trustfulness of the British nature, and the 
 pleasing glamour of reality which gentlemen like Mr. Cupid 
 Bose, or Mr. Hoggspice, or Messrs. Moreen and Blant are 
 able to cast around their gambols on the daisied sod of the 
 London auction-room. By arrangement the auctioneer 
 has his handsome percentage on each sale. What, if I 
 may presume to ask, is tho graft that Mr. Cupid Bose and 
 the rest divide between themselves when they have washed 
 off their war-paint and left off pretending to be rivals ?" 
 
 " Graft," echoed the luxurious owner of the diamond-set- 
 vinaigretto. " And what, may I ask, is graft V 
 
 " Consult an Amurrican dictionary," said the previous 
 speaker, " and you will find that to graft is not only to 
 mend shoes, but to extract the golden juice, if I may put it 

 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 345 
 
 poetically, from the human orange. We have, in my great 
 and glorious country, many varieties of graft, but, ostenta- 
 tious as we are about other advantages, we do not boast in 
 this line ! We have police graft ; graft-boodling in the 
 Boards, Syndicates, and Committees ; theatrical graft, graft 
 smash-ups on our railways, Insurance graft, Trust graft, 
 Company graft, and religious grafters of many denomina- 
 tions. We have wire-tapping graft, Wall-street graft, Bank 
 Fund and Charitable Association graft; coal, lumber, oil, steel, 
 and grain graft, gas graft, and tax graft. But perhaps the 
 simplest and most elemental kind o' graft, the one that has 
 most of the perfume of hawthorn-buds and the genuine 
 fragrance of the cowslip about it, is auction-room graft ! 
 And when we cross the ocean and impress with our Leather- 
 Trust-supplied, Union-labour-sewn boot-soles the dear old 
 soil of Britain, to find it blooming there is a thing that wets 
 the eye, and causes the bosom, I allow, to do some con- 
 siderable heaving !' ? 
 
 The speaker paused. The working meohanic with the 
 hollow chest and stained hands and the heavy cough, had, 
 like myself, listened to him attentively. Like myself, he 
 now looked towards the delicate dilettante to see how the 
 odd American mixture of sly humour, bitter sarcasm, 
 deadly contempt and placid philosophy, affected him. 
 And a strange, mysterious smile hovered about his pale 
 lip3. The other persons constituting the group about the 
 stove had been attracted by the discussion, and expressed 
 interest in several ways. The palo young lady whom I now 
 saw to be very pretty, if too colourless and fragile for actual 
 beauty, had fixed largo, light hazel eyes upon the eloquent 
 features of the American's face, and those eyes throbbed 
 with such vitality of feeling as is, for all our protested 
 belief in the power of the human eye to convey shades of 
 emotion, most rare. The elderly lady wore a frown such 
 as might pucker the brows of disappointment, and kept a
 
 346 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 firm grip of the solid wooden handle of her umbrella with 
 one large, strong, gloved hand, the other being occupied 
 with a yellow-paper-covered sale-catalogue such as each 
 of us possessed. It may be that she disapproved of the 
 American for being so very American indeed ; or that his 
 outspokenness had confirmed certain painful doubts of her 
 own. And the agricultural-looking personage sat very 
 upright, with his coarse hands upon his heavy knees, which 
 were set very wide apart, and his piggish little grey eyes 
 were palpably distended with something akin to dismay. 
 They followed the careless, supple movement of the young 
 patrician's hand as he restored the Queen's vinaigrette to 
 its place in an inner pocket, and seemed to express respect- 
 ful wonder that a man to whom it had just been plainly 
 suggested that he had been robbed, should take the thing 
 so coolly. 
 
 " The idea of such a roguish conspiracy among those men 
 who trade in the old and precious handiwork of ancient 
 artists and craftsmen," said the handsome young man after 
 a moment's pause, " is not too pleasant ; and by your 
 leave " — he bowed coldly to the American — " I much prefer 
 not to dwell upon it ! That I have paid a large price for a 
 relic which I regard as priceless I cannot regret ; the docu- 
 ments I hold sufficiently prove its genuineness, and when I 
 die — for I shall not part with it whilst living — it will justify 
 my expenditure by fetching a price that will be piquantly 
 sensational. Perhaps my spiritual essence will be hovering 
 in a dusty shaft of sunshine near the auctioneer's desk as 
 the hammer falls !" He passed his white fingers through the 
 waves of dark hair that sat upon a forehead not wide enough 
 for genius but high enough for thought ; and the pale young 
 lady sighed a little, perhaps at the thought of the death of 
 one so well calculated to make a woman's life happy. 
 
 " Sir," returned the American, " as a member of the 
 Episcopalian Clmrch of Amurrica, I can but devoutly hope
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 347 
 
 that your spiritual essence will be more agreeably employed. 
 A connection of mine, Mr. Amos J. Sculpin of N'York, of 
 whom you may have heard in connection with the co-lossal 
 combination known as the Chewing-Gum Trust, of which 
 he is head boss and director " — the luxuriously appointed 
 young gentleman bowed slightly — " cherishes, in a specially- 
 designed compartment of a cabinet designed in Kentucky 
 rock-crystal for the reception of such royal relics as the 
 salts-bottle you have just placed in your vest-pocket, an 
 article exactly similar, possessing the same history, and 
 authenticated by identical documents ; which was privately 
 sold to him in 1904 as having formed part of the lamented 
 Duke of Benbridge's collection. I lament him, sir ; not 
 because I grieve for his death ! but because if he had lived 
 and continued to freeze to his curios, the fellow-countryman 
 I mentioned would still be in possession of the wad he 
 has been artistically relieved of !" 
 
 " Sir, I regret that Mr. Sculpin should have fallen a 
 victim to the trick of a lying tradesman," said the luxurious 
 young man with a dignity that suited him extremely, 
 ' even while I congratulate myself upon being the fortu- 
 nate possessor of the genuine vinaigrette of Queen Marie 
 Antoinette !" 
 
 The American struggled for utterance a moment, and I 
 believe I saw tears well into his eyes. Then, rising, he bent 
 forward and, extending his hand to the luxurious young 
 man, he said warmly : 
 
 " Of your kind, sir, is the Kingdom of Heaven. Oblige 
 me by shaking that !" 
 
 The luxurious young man obliged with more courtesy 
 than warmth, and turning to me as though to change the 
 tenor of the conversation, remarked how strange it was that 
 none of the regular habitues of Pringold's Gallery had as 
 yet appeared. 
 
 " For the sale will be of a very interesting character," he
 
 348 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 said, " as in addition to the recently -discovered hoard of 
 silver coins catalogued as the ' Tribute of Off a,' I observe 
 that an electrum stater of Lydia will come under Pringold's 
 hammer." 
 
 " And do you intend to be a bidder for this numismatic 
 rarity also ?" I inquired, I hope in a tone that did not 
 betray a vulgar curiosity. 
 
 The pale and graceful wearer of the costly sable-lined 
 overcoat smiled sadly and slightly shook his handsome 
 head. 
 
 " I cannot but question the genuineness of the coin," he 
 remarked, " which represents the earliest form of money 
 known, dating from 700 B.C., and composed of a metal 
 formed of the natural mixture of gold and silver obtained 
 by washing the sands of the classic stream of Pactolus." 
 
 "In which King Midas is said to have laved away the 
 inconvenient gift of the Golden Touch," I added, not 
 regretting the opportunity of showing that I also possessed 
 a modest fund of learning. 
 
 " I surmise," said the American, " that before his 
 Majesty King Midas lavated the inconvenience right away, 
 he took the precaution of handling his nickel money, gilt 
 jewellery, and plated ware ? Otherwise, I should be 
 tempted to regard the first three letters of the potentate's 
 Christian name as supererogatory !" 
 
 The elegant wearer of the sumptuous coat elevated his 
 finely-pencilled eyebrows as though the utterance of the 
 New Yorker appeared to him to be lacking in good taste, 
 and said, turning to me : 
 
 " Only one true coin of the kind I have described has as 
 yet been found. And here it is !" He lifted the coin that 
 hung suspended from his delicate watch-chain with a 
 beautifully-manicured right thumb and forefinger, and 
 held it out for my inspection. " It is mounted in a setting 
 from which it can be detached at will. As you observe,"
 
 THE^TRIBUTE OF OFFA 349 
 
 he added, and detached it, placing the numismatic treasure 
 in my reverent palm — . " I was fortunately travelling in 
 Asia Minor at the time of its discovery ; and when I pur- 
 chased it the soil of Lydia was encrusted upon its beauty. 
 Judge for yourself if it was not a treasure-trove ?" 
 
 ; ' I discern upon the obverse the royal symbol of the 
 sun-lord Attys, and the ear of corn, denoting the worship of 
 Demeter, upon the reverse," I said. 
 
 "What an exquisite hue has the electrum," said the elegant 
 young man. " How vulgar mere gold seems beside that 
 subtle nuance of yellow, pale as the harvest moon ! I pur- 
 chased the treasure-trove from a Greek merchant of 
 Smyrna, and thought myself fortunate when he asked no 
 more than seven thousand drachmas, a sum quite con- 
 siderably under three hundred pounds !" 
 
 The Lydian coin vanished from my palm, whence it had 
 been dexterously whipped by the agile fingers of the 
 American. Beyond a slightly ironical elevation of the eye- 
 brows, its owner manifested no annoyance, but remarked 
 in a singularly level tone : 
 
 " Possibly, sir, you recognize the specimen as an inferior 
 one, or even as a forged reproduction of a coin now in the 
 cabinet of your distinguished connection, Mr. Amos J. 
 Scalping " 
 
 " Sculpin," corrected the unmoved American. 
 
 " Of New York ?" added the elegantly attired young man. 
 
 " Sir, be reassured upon the point," said the connection 
 of Mr. Amos J. Sculpin, blandly. " Sir, I do not ! Amos 
 is a variety of fools, sir, but not the mammoth kind." He 
 leaned towards me, extending his narrow palm, in which 
 lay the electrum stater. I took the coin, but it slipped 
 from my hold and fell upon the worn red felt that carpeted 
 the Gallery. I uttered a slight exclamation of dismay, 
 echoed by the American. Simultaneously we dived for 
 the coin, but the shabby man who occupied the chair
 
 350 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 between us was quicker than we. He picked up the pale 
 yellow, shining semi-oval, and polishing it carefully upon the 
 straggling end of a worn and frayed blue silk neck- handker- 
 chief , palpably a bit of woman's gear taken into masculine 
 use, he civilly restored it to its owner, saying, in the hollow, 
 toneless voice of pulmonary disease, and with a strange, 
 fleeting gleam of something very like mockery in his faded 
 negatives of eyes : 
 
 "Here is your valuable possession, sir," and in a moment 
 the gravity of his thin face was shattered, and he broke into 
 a fit of the discordant, braying laughter that pains the 
 utterer no less than the listener. " Ha, ha, ha !" he barked. 
 " Ha, ha ! . . . Oh, Lord ! Really, gentlemen and ladies, 
 I ask your pardon, but it got the better of me. ... Oh, 
 dear !" 
 
 He got the better of it, beating on his knees and gulping 
 down the spasmodic cachinnations that rose in his throat. 
 And as he dried his weeping eyes with the frayed ends of 
 the torn blue neckerchief I saw the glance of the American 
 exploring him with quiet persistency. Then the lean, 
 narrow-palmed hand visited a waistcoat-pocket and came 
 out again with an English sovereign in it. 
 
 " I'll give you this five-dollar bit if you'll answer one 
 question and answer it straight! Is it a deal ?" asked the 
 cool, cutting voice. 
 
 II 
 
 We all hung upon the reply. The man was shabby and 
 poor ; his eyes devoured the gleaming golden bait with a 
 desperate hunger in them, and yet he hesitated to clinch 
 the bargain with the calm, keen-eyed speculator. The 
 mingling of shame and desire in his face was strange and 
 pitiful to see, as he faltered : 
 
 " It depends, sir, upon what the question is ?" 
 
 " I'll tell you right away," said the American. " I want
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 351 
 
 to know why you lafled when you picked up that gentle- 
 man's coin ? Take the money and tell. Smart, now !" 
 
 I heard a little quick-caught, feminine breath as the 
 shabby mechanic, crimson to the hair, stretched out a hand 
 to take the sovereign. I glanced at the pale young lady, 
 whose face was full of pity. The angel who stands behind 
 the demon-tempted gambler in the German woodcut, and 
 silently pleads with the reckless one not to close the awful, 
 unhallowed bargain of a soul for earthly gain, wears such 
 an expression of anxious solicitude, and might have given 
 such a sigh. The angel of the print, being a Teutonic 
 angel, has a full, fleshy face, whereas this girl's features 
 looked as if carved out of worn ivory, and her young cheeks 
 showed hollows instead of curves. And her strange, 
 changeful, light hazel eyes reveal violet depths of sorrow 
 behind the grey mists of unshed tears. 
 
 I do not know quite why I did it, but I took out a 
 sovereign of my own, and with a challenging glance at the 
 American, towards whom until that moment I had not 
 felt the slightest animosity, I said to the shabby man : 
 
 " I'll give you this sovereign not to answer !" 
 
 As the man gasped with surprise and lifted his hollow 
 eyes incredulously to mine, the American whipped out two 
 sovereigns more, and added them to the first. 
 
 " I'll see you, sir," he said, employing the well-worn 
 shibboleth of the poker-player, " and raise you ! Fifteen 
 dollars," he added, addressing the shabby mechanic, " to 
 say why you laffed just now !" 
 
 I am not rich. I had had one flash of approval from 
 those mysterious hazel eyes, and would have gladly earned 
 another. But I had only some small silver with me in addi- 
 tion to my sovereign. I endeavoured to convey this ex- 
 planation in the deprecating glance I directed towards the 
 pale young lady. I think she bowed her head, very 
 slightly. I have never been quite sure ; but that she under-
 
 352 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 stood I was certain then. And as I looked at her the sad- 
 ness of her face changed to lovely joy, as a mountain river- 
 pool that has lain lustreless under a cloudy sky will leap 
 into dazzling brilliance when a sudden ray of sunshine 
 strikes it. I heard the unmistakable crackling of a bank- 
 note, and the soft, well-bred voice of the owner of the 
 diamond vinaigrette and the Lydian coin saying : 
 
 " Ten pounds to you to keep your secret !" 
 
 " Turning, I beheld another change in the face of the 
 pallid mechanic. He looked like the Laughing Faun. 
 
 " Sir ! sir !" . . . he stammered. But the American 
 was busily extracting what he would have called his wad 
 from an inner breast-pocket, and his alert features were 
 alight with pleasurable excitement as he moistened his 
 thumb and whipped another note from the roll. 
 
 " Twenty to tell !" he bid. Wall Street must have 
 known that brisk business-manner. The face of the 
 farmer in tailor-made armour was now purple, his little 
 pig-eyes were popping from his head. The determined- 
 looking elderly lady had barely relaxed her frown ; the girl, 
 with the new light in her eyes, the rose-flush that had 
 blossomed on her cheeks and the gleam of white even teeth 
 between her pink, parted lips, was wonderfully transformed. 
 I could have blessed the languid young plutocrat who was 
 responsible for the miracle, even while I was sensible of a 
 tang of bitterness because it had not been wrought by me. 
 It was very strange that the warm spirit of human sym- 
 pathy illuminating the young woman's features should 
 have made itself felt by its object without one exchange 
 of glance or spoken word. As the American confidently 
 crackled the bait under his victim's nose, the tempted 
 man lifted his dark, cloudy, troubled eyes to her, saying 
 appealingly : 
 
 " Miss, what am I to do ?" 
 
 " Take the money, friend !" said the American briskly.
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 353 
 
 " Do not take the money, sir," said the girl, " if it will 
 cost you your self-respect !" 
 
 In what a voice of melody she spoke the words. Prin- 
 gold's auction-room is large and lofty, but that utterance 
 woke its echoes and made the crystal drops of the old- 
 fashioned glass chandelier, hanging from its central dome, 
 vibrate with a faint tinkling response. And yet the young 
 woman had spoken in an undertone, without effort or 
 gesture. " How she must sing !" I thought, and wrongly. 
 For the pearl beyond price, the voice of voices, is most 
 divine in speech. Your golden-throated prima-donna is a 
 mere mechanical nightingale beside the owner of the 
 heavenly organ that breathes the mysterious music heard 
 ere birth, and thrills the listener with rapture that is almost 
 pain. Looking upon the speaker, I now observed by the 
 noble sweep of the shoulders, and the fine poise of her head 
 upon a straight and columnar throat, that her person was 
 far less insignificant than had appeared to my previous 
 observation. To be struck at once by the outward beauty 
 of a person is a very common experience ; to behold it kindle 
 in the face and burgeon from the form in which you had not 
 previously suspected the treasure lay concealed, is to know 
 the exultation of the discoverer of a new world. This 
 young woman was like a hawk-moth, whose dead-leaf and 
 bark-grey tinting can so assimilate with the bough on which 
 the insect rests that the eye ignores its presence ; until . . . 
 a quiver of the folded wings reveals the glorious jewelling 
 i of their hidden side. To be handsome at all times is a gift 
 
 I of the fairies ; to be beautiful in the eyes that of all you 
 would wish to please, — to be lovely whenever dear love is to 
 be gained — could any boon come more direct from Heaven 
 to a daughter of Eve ? 
 
 The mechanic with the acid-stained hands wrung them 
 
 I together upon receiving the young lady's answer ; and yet 
 gave her a look of gratitude such as a dog might bestow 
 upon the master who has cut out a splinter or a thorn. His 
 
 23
 
 354 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 eyes reverted to the American's twenty pounds, but he 
 subdued the longing in them, and mastered the desire to take. 
 
 " I venture to echo the lady, though less melodiously," 
 said the luxurious young man ; " and since we have played 
 this little comedy nearly through, let me bring down the 
 curtain. Here are fifty pounds." He extended a little 
 roll of notes to the tempted man. " Accept the money ; 
 do with it as you will, and laugh or be melancholy as you 
 prefer, without explaining the why or the wherefore to 
 impertinent inquirers !" 
 
 "Dear me!" exclaimed the elderly lady involuntarily, 
 and with a slight shiver. " How very rude !" 
 
 "Marm," said the American with a smile, "your sym- 
 pathy is grateful, but the saline globules of its native Chesa- 
 peake Bay do not roll off the spry and frolicsome canvas- 
 back quicker than disparaging remarks are accustomed to 
 roll off me. ' I kin be shot, but not wilted !' as a friend of 
 mine, known on the N'York Petroleum Exchange as 
 ' Iscariot Junior ' and ' Ananias II.' is accustomed to 
 remark. And the resentment of my friend in the pelt-lined 
 overall adds — such is our fallen human nature ! — a kind of 
 flavour to the game. It inspires me to offer the gentleman 
 with the expensive laff a hundred pounds English for his 
 reason in letting it loose just now, and here's the money !" 
 
 " Let him take it or leave it," said the handsome young 
 man with a contemptuous shrug. " Beyond the fifty 
 pounds I have offered I will not go !" 
 
 It was curious to see how the thirst for the hundred 
 pounds parched the lips of the pale mechanic. He wetted 
 them with his tongue before he could speak, and then his 
 utterance was addressed to the pale young lady. 
 
 " My wife is dying," he said hoarsely ; "my child is ill. We 
 
 are in debt to our landlord. I am without work: and a hundred 
 
 pounds would pay our debts and keep us for nigh a year !" 
 
 " I am not your judge," said the person he despairingly 
 
 addressed. " Do as you will !"
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 355 
 
 The words ended in a dying cadence, and a sigh that 
 seemed to stir the air about us as the broad feathers of an 
 angel's folding wings might have done. And the lids of the 
 speaker dropped, shutting out all radiance ; her beauty 
 vanished ; her form seemed to shrink in size and grow vague 
 in outline until she sat beside the commonplace spinster 
 lady as a being of no special individuality, and no apparent 
 charm. There was a crisp and crackling sound as the 
 American's notes were transferred to the stained palm of 
 the worker, and the handsome young man in the sable-lined 
 coat thrust the rejected fifty back into his pocket. And then : 
 
 " Am I to explain privately to you why I laughed, or 
 before these ladies and gentlemen ?" the bought man asked, 
 with a hollow inflection like a groan. His stained left hand 
 was pressed against his heart, as though to make sure of 
 the reality of the precious money that might save wife and 
 child, or to still the remorseful anguish of its throbbing. 
 
 " You shall tell us all, I guess !" said his purchaser, with 
 cool mercilessness, after satisfying himself, by a glance about 
 the auction-room, that Messrs. Pringold's herculean porter 
 had not returned. 
 
 " The Lydian coin I picked up just now, and which this 
 gentleman says he bought for three hundred pounds of a 
 Smyrna merchant," said the pale mechanic, with a heavy 
 sigh, " was manufactured by myself. I swear it by the 
 Hand that made me /" 
 
 The handsome young man flushed suddenly to the 
 temples. Ho clenched his covered right hand until the 
 white knuckles burst through the soft tan glove, with an 
 effect as of teeth in a brown, laughing face. 
 
 Then he spoke, quite calmly, but with a dangerous spark 
 in his fine black eyes : " Tell me the merchant's name ?" 
 
 " Demetrius Ionides," said the pale mechanic, gulping 
 down something that worked in his throat, and the expres- 
 sion in the face of the handsome young man assured me that 
 the poor wretch had spoken truth. " Ionides has worked
 
 356 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 off most of the archaic stuff that me and one other man — 
 whose name's no business of yours ! — have made in the last 
 fifteen years, for Mark Lucassa, the West End medal- and 
 antique coin-dealer. Lucassa's travellers range half the 
 world in seach of rare coins, he'll tell you, and he pays 
 big prices for perfect examples, and sells clever duplicates 
 of them for the price of diamonds to rich collectors ; and does 
 it so cleverly that each fool-buyer thinks himself the only 
 man who owns the genuine thing — that's locked up in 
 Lucassa's private strong-room all the while ! Lord ! what 
 a collection he has ! Not one doubtful or imperfect coin 
 among 'em ; and not one that hasn't been duplicated and 
 sold a hundred times over, and a hundred times to that, 
 thanks to the poor devils who sweat day and night in his 
 workshops under the West End !" 
 
 " And you are, or were, one of these perspiring citizens V* 
 said the American drily. " You might not admire to hear 
 it, maybe, if I gave you a shorter name !" 
 
 " You can't call us smashers !" asserted the other with a 
 flash of defiance. " Antique coins aren't currency, and so 
 the trade calls the faking of 'em by a prettier title. Talk 
 of Rings and Trusts ! Don't Lucassa and half-a-dozen 
 others boom the market as they choose ? Don't they 
 publish the books of reference collectors consult, tell 'em 
 what to buy and what to pass over — ah ! — and where to 
 dig, maybe, for stuff themselves laid down?" The pale 
 mechanic paused to cough. " A hint of mine about that 
 led, in a manner, to my losing my job at Lucassa's, if the 
 true reason wasn't that I've made as many silver hemiektons 
 of Athens, hectas of Cyzicas in Mydia, and tetradrachmas 
 of Syracuse, Alexander the Great, and Alexander the 
 Lesser, as he's likely to want for a good while. But all 
 the same — rot him ! — he'd best have kept me on . . . he'd 
 best have !" He pinched the rough cloth of his shabby 
 coat over where the bank-notes lay hidden, and nodded as 
 they gave forth a crackling sound. " You've made me
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 357 
 
 independent of the Old Man's cursed shops " — he nodded at 
 
 the American — " that he kicked me out of only for a word !" 
 
 " The tale the church bells tolled," observed the American, 
 
 " was 
 
 ' If he had took more care, 
 He'd not have gone in there !' 
 
 and I take it, substituting ' out of ' for ' in,' your case is 
 much the same as that of the citizen in the elm-tree 
 overcoat." 
 
 But the humour of the allusion was lost upon the late 
 drudge of the great coin-dealer. "This is how it was !" he 
 said, with evident effort. " There's a Welshman in Lu- 
 cassa's place has got a pretty knack at turning out sceattas 
 and stycas and other silver pennies of the Saxon Heptarchy. 
 At it day and night for a year past, he's been. Pretty rough 
 they run, till you get to the Mercian pennies of King Offa, 
 and they're handsome enough. ..." 
 
 There was a stir or susurration of awakened interest 
 among the group of three persons sitting on the right side 
 of the sto^e. The farmer-like man tilted backwards sud- 
 denly in his chair ; the sternly-composed elderly lady 
 loosened her grip of her umbrella to rub her nose and adjust 
 her spectacles ; the large, translucent hazel eyes of the pale 
 young lady flashed violet. She drew her breath inwards 
 with a little gasjDing sound before she lowered her long- 
 fringed eyelids and sat as calmly as before. 
 
 " The coins of Offa, a.d. 757, are the most interesting and 
 valuable, as you say," responded the owner of the forged 
 coin of Lydia. " The heads of those I have been shown by 
 Messrs. Pringold are executed with spirit and finish ; the 
 designs on the reverses are wonderfully various. It is sup- 
 posed that the King's residence at Rome, in the Pontificate 
 of Adrian, accounts for this superiority " 
 
 "And Morgan Davis's being a clever chap !" said the 
 late employe of Messrs. Lucassa, with a sardonic grin. 
 " Two thousand rare ones he made, and made 'em rarely.
 
 358 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 ' Off a Rex Merciorum ' inscribed as proper as you please. 
 And forty silver ones of Cynethryth, the Queen, ' Cyn. 
 Regina ' on the reverses ; and one rare one without the 
 dot after the name, andjone in pale Welsh gold — priceless 
 if it had have been genuine, and like to fetch a thousand 
 pounds even now, handled by Lucassa ! And, though I'd 
 seen the game played scores o' times before, I must have my 
 joke. ' There's going to be a find soon, in the country !' I 
 says to Morgan Davis. ' Kent, perhaps, or up Lancashire 
 way, if we're choice about a good locality !' And Lucassa 
 was behind me, curse him ! and grinned like a fox. He 
 handed me my week's wages and my quarter's overtime 
 that night, and told me to go to the devil ! And he's shut 
 every door in the trade against me, since then, every door ! 
 . . . And who was I to quarrel with my bread and cheese ? 
 What was it to me, my sick child, and my sick wife, if they 
 buried and found a hundred pretended treasures such as 
 the Tribute of Off a ? — that's to be sold in this place for the 
 biggest sum the biggest fool will give for it this day ! . . ." 
 
 " Man !" cried the handsome wearer of the sable-lined 
 coat, almost fiercely, " do you mean to imply that the 
 rogue you name is responsible for the whole parcel of coins 
 that are advertised in this catalogue " — he struck the yellow 
 leaflet angrily upon his knee — " as having been dug up at 
 Glattendon Dyke, in the Valley of the Upper Trent, en- 
 closed in a bronze cauldron ? . . ." 
 
 "And if he do, he be a loiar !" came suddenly and 
 loudly out of the large mouth that unexpectedly opened in 
 the square red face of the agriculturalist in the armour-plate 
 of the village -tailor. " Yees, he be ! for I seed that owd 
 boocket digged up myseln, full o' they tin vard'n's, I did so ; 
 an' my Bible oath I'll take on it !" 
 
 " And I, sir, as step-sister upon the mother's side of the 
 clerical gentleman of whose glebe, Glattendon Dyke, situated 
 about thirty miles from the town of Lincoln, upon a branch- 
 line, forms part," said the determined-looking elderly lady>
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 359 
 
 " am prepared to testify to the genuine discovery of the 
 coins in the^ancient sacrificial vessel to which Farmer Cow- 
 dray has referred as a bucket !" She cast upon the farmer 
 a look of scorn, which glanced aside from his dull conscious- 
 ness as a quill-pen shaft might glance from the surface of a 
 metal tea-tray. " And here is another person who was 
 actually present when the hoard was brought to light!" 
 She waved a plump gloved hand in the direction of the 
 pale young lady, towards whom, until this moment, her 
 maimer had given no indication of knowledge or relation- 
 ship. " My step-niece, Miss Cynethryth Lowerne !" 
 
 " It is true I" said the sweet, vibrating voice of the girl, as 
 she returned the slight, courteous bow of the owner of the 
 Lydian coin and the diamond vinaigrette. " And my aunt 
 and I are here to-day on behalf of my father, the Reverend 
 Eadwald Lowerne, who, as owner of the land, claims pro- 
 prietorial rights in the treasure-trove, and, being an invalid, 
 was unable to bear the strain of the journey to London." 
 
 "An' thee and Miss Maughan might ha' stayed behind, 
 yees, thee might so, Miss Cynether !" said Farmer Cowdray, 
 purpling, " for all Vicar be like to git out o' that copper 
 boocket be your pains. He won't rascal me out o' my 
 rights, an' he'd best know it ! Don't I rent Glattenden 
 Dyke o' he, at twinty pounds the yeer for th' field an' bit 
 o' bogland, an' pay my quarters reggerly as th' settlin' day 
 comes round ? And odds dickens ! what comes out o' th' 
 earth, beant it mine by roights ? 0' coorse it be !" He 
 brought one colossal hand down upon his solid knee with a 
 smack that made the Vicar's step-sister jump in her chair. 
 " My roights — an' I be agooin' to ha' 'em !" And the 
 ponderous hand banged down again. 
 
 " Your determination would do you credit, sir," said the 
 elegant wearer of the sable-lined coat, " if your pretensions 
 to the ownership of the hoard were more solidly founded. 
 As a landlord, I know somewhat of the rights of an owner of 
 the soil, and a morning call upon the nearest solicitor would
 
 360 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 have convinced you of your error, and spared you your 
 journey." 
 
 " A laa'yer !" roared the owner of the crimson face. " A 
 villian paid to swear black be white, lookin' true in the face ! 
 I'll ha' no trook wi' laa'yers. Thieves all, they be, every 
 man Jack !" 
 
 " Well, in that case, friend," remarked the American 
 slyly, " I guess you would have found yourself in company !" 
 
 " Miss Cynether," said the farmer, " be that there 
 scratty lookin', weasel-chopped feller theer maakin' out as 
 I'm a thief ?" 
 
 " The gentleman does not quite mean that, Mr. Cow- 
 dray," said the girl gently. " But he thinks that you were 
 mistaken in thinking you possessed the right to sell those 
 persons who came to you in March, permission to excavate 
 a trench along the Dyke and carry away whatever they 
 might discover. My father had never allowed anyone 
 to dig there ; he had long suspected the existence of Saxon 
 remains at Glattendon, but had not the means to pay 
 for labour, and was therefore compelled to leave the place 
 untouched. And you know," the sweet voice faltered, 
 ' that the shock of hearing what j^ou had done without his 
 permission nearly killed him ! He has never been the 
 same man since the seizure, and may never completely 
 recover, Dr. Blissett says !" 
 
 " I be sorry for the Vicar," said Farmer Cowdray, dog- 
 gedly, " but a man's roights be a man's roights." His 
 little pig's eyes blinked as he shook his wooden head : evi- 
 dently the heart under the village tailor's rhinoceros -hide 
 panoply was less hard than it appeared. " My nine years' 
 lease o' Glattendon Dyke mead an' marsh woornt oop till 
 the March quarter. I soold them chaps the right to dig on 
 the 'leventh, kippin' a fifth share in the profits o' whatever 
 they mought find. What they foond were mine to sell, an' 
 I'll give oop my rights for no man livin' !" 
 
 " Young lady," said the pale-faced worker in metals, re-
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 361 
 
 moving the ominous red handkerchief which, in the endea- 
 vour to suppress a fresh attack of coughing, he had held 
 pressed against his convulsed and ghastly lips, and address- 
 ing himself timidly to the Vicar's daughter, " I can only 
 testify to what I know. The copper cauldron the coins 
 were contained in when dug up, that is supposed to be a 
 sacrificial vessel, is an article of real antiquity. It is of 
 ancient British workmanship, purchased by Mr. Lucassa 
 for the purpose it was used for — the old fox makes many a 
 good investment of the kind. As to the coins, if I must 
 say the word — they are rank forgeries ! Don't interrupt 
 me !" he cried with sudden passion, as the American would 
 have spoken. " I can prove what I say, by the Lord ! and 
 that before ten minutes are over. Let this gentleman," he 
 pointed to the handsome wearer of the sable-lined motor-coat 
 — " let this gentleman, who is known to Messrs. Pringold 
 as a wealthy collector, send in the commissionaire to the 
 manager's office with his card and the request that the gems 
 of the find," he laughed hollowly, "may be brought out 
 here by the man for a moment's private inspection. The 
 rare silver penny of Cynethryth the Queen without the dot 
 after the name," he grinned, " and the one in pale Welsh 
 gold, that some fool collector will be ready to sell his soul 
 for " 
 
 " We'll have them out !" cried the person addressed, 
 springing to his feet and snatching a daintily-enamelled gold 
 card-case from his vest-pocket. " It shall be the final test !" 
 
 " I won't look at the coins, not I ! You may blindfold 
 me as tight as you please before the porter brings 'em in," 
 cried the haggard metal-worker faintly. " But I'll tell you 
 what marks to look for — you, sir," he repeated, pointedly 
 addressing the graceful young dandy, " or the gentleman 
 who offered me the sovereign, or the young lady — God 
 bless her for her pity on a suffering wretch like me ! And 
 if you don't find 'em, set where they were by Morgan Davis 
 that he might know his own handiwork again if ever he
 
 362 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 should come across it, I'll hand you" — his fever-bright 
 eyes blazed from their sunken settings angrily upon the 
 American — " I'll hand you back the money you have paid 
 me, you — you cold-blooded buyer of a fellow-creature's 
 self-respect !" 
 
 " It's a deal !" uttered the New Yorker, quite ungalled 
 by the acrid hatred and contempt of the metal-worker's 
 tone. He rose, touched the electric bell-button marked 
 ' Porter ' that jutted from the wall near the row of hooks 
 whence the railway-guides depended, and as the uniformed 
 giant re-entered from the outer corridor, the handsome 
 young man, beckoning, handed him a half-sovereign and a 
 pencilled visiting-card, the name engraved on which was 
 evidently familiar to Colossus, for he did not even glance at it. 
 
 " Oblige me by conveying that message to Mr. Henry 
 Pringold," said the owner of the card, "and tell him, if he 
 will gratify the desire of the sender, the courtesy will be 
 profoundly appreciated." 
 
 He turned to Miss Lowerne as the giant commissionaire 
 vanished through the left-hand door of the three private 
 entrances communicating with Messrs. Pringold's inner 
 offices. 
 
 " Do I understand," he asked, bending courteously in 
 the direction of the Vicar's sweet- voiced daughter, " that 
 your father really had previous knowledge of a concealed 
 hoard in Glattenden Dyke before the excavation of the 
 mass of coins whose genuineness we are now to question ?" 
 
 " In the north angle of the Dyke, under the Dole Loaf, 
 as they call a curiously-shaped boulder," assented Miss 
 Lowerne, " according to an ancient plan or chart written in 
 monkish Latin upon parchment which has been preserved 
 in our family for ages, a treasure is said to lie hidden." 
 
 " Od drabbit it, Miss Cynether! th' ow'd parchment 
 too'ald th' wrong stoary !" put in Farmer Cowdray, blinking 
 his little pig's eyes. " 'Twas the sooth end o' th' Dyke 
 where they foreigners digged an' foond th' boocket o'
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 363 
 
 coounters, an' filled up th' hole agen, as they gev' me their 
 solemn promise to do. Not a shool they struck in ground 
 at th' north angle, as I've toald ye times upo' times. . . ." 
 
 The re-entrance of Colossus, bearing at the full stretch 
 of two immensely lengthy arms a wooden box of the smallest 
 dimensions, diverted the attention of the listeners and 
 brought the speaker's broad Doric periods to a close. 
 
 " Pause, I beg, madam, and you, gentlemen !" cried the 
 luxuriously attired young gentleman as the American, the 
 Vicar's step-sister, and myself — I own it with regret — 
 jostled each other in the attempt to gain first glimpse of the 
 contents of the extremely small receptacle carried by the 
 excessively large porter. " Restrain your natural curiosity, 
 I entreat ! Let the first glimpse of the contents of yonder 
 box — deciding the genuineness of the coins, or revealing 
 them as forgeries, — be Miss Lowerne's !" 
 
 We drew back, as at an entreating glance from the 
 haggard worker in metals, and an encouraging smile from 
 the handsome young man, Miss Lowerne advanced towards 
 the immovable Colossus. Then the American held up his 
 hand, arresting the young lady's steps midway. 
 
 " A moment, ladies and gentlemen, with your permis- 
 sion!" he said. "I guess it will not interfere with the 
 validity of the arrangements if our versatile acquaintance, 
 Mr. Barker — whose coff I do allow has supplie dine with the 
 name ! — will swivel his intelligent countenance around this 
 way, and keep it fixed while I put a question to the out- 
 sized gentleman in the gilt-buttoned frock, whom, not 
 having the privilege of knowing his name, I shall presume 
 to address as Mr. Midgett. Maybe Mr. Midget t will oblige 
 by telling the assembled company whether he possesses 
 any previous acquaintance with Mr. Barker ? Also, 
 whether the gentlemen who run these auction-saloons have 
 had any truck with Mr. Barker at any time to his know- 
 ledge 1 And, finally, whether Mr. Barker has, since the 
 collection of coins poetically known as the Tribute of Off a
 
 364 THE TRIBUTE OF OFF A 
 
 have been in the keeping of Messrs. Pringold, enjoyed 
 any opportunity of getting a good look at them ? Now, 
 Mr. Midgett !" 
 
 The giant commissionaire looked carefully at the shabbily- 
 dressed metal-worker, shook his head, and said in a small 
 mild voice that contrasted whimsically with his great 
 height and brawny mass of muscle : 
 
 " Never saw the man here before, and I've been on duty 
 here without a day off, except Sundays, since I came back 
 from South Africa with the Reserve !" 
 
 " Euchred !" said the American, with a pleasant smile. 
 "And now, Mr. Barker, wade in. I will not further inter- 
 rupt the picnic." 
 
 "I ask the young lady to take this magnifying-glass," 
 said the pale metal-worker with a trembling voice, as he 
 drew a cheap instrument from his coat-pocket, " and ex- 
 amine the silver penny of Queen Cynethryth of Mercia, and 
 read out the inscription on the reverse." 
 
 " It is ' Cyn Regina,' " said Miss Lowerne, after an instant 
 devoted to inspection of the coin. 
 
 "There is no dot after 'Cyn,' I think?" said the hag- 
 gard man, stifling a cough. 
 
 " No," replied the Vicar's daughter. 
 
 " You have already told us " the handsome young 
 
 man was beginning, when the late employe of Lucassa 
 stopped him with an entreating gesture. 
 
 " There is no dot after ' Cyn,' but just before the ' C ' there 
 is one, so slight as to be invisible without the magnifier ?" 
 
 "It is as you say!" answered Miss Lowerne, after an 
 instant's pause. 
 
 " I have not finished yet," said the haggard man, throw- 
 a glance of contemptuous triumph in the direction of the 
 American. " Take up the penny of pale Welsh gold. Ex- 
 amine — not the head of the Queen on the obverse, but the 
 punched name of the moneyer in irregular letters on the 
 reverse. How does it read to you ?"
 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 365 
 
 ' Stamped in irregular letters within a border of dots," 
 answered Miss Lowerne, " I decipher ' SIVAD. ROM.' " 
 
 " And what is that, read backwards, but ' Mor. Davis '?" 
 cried the consumptive man, shaking his thin clenched hand 
 at the American in an ecstacy of defiance. " Look for 
 yourselves and tell me I'm lying, if you can !" 
 
 The luxurious young man uttered an exclamation and 
 taking the coin eagerly from the hand of the Vicar's daughter, 
 subjected it to a brief scrutiny, and burst into a peal o'f not 
 untuneful laughter. 
 
 " Absolutely," he cried. " I forgive the clever scoundrel 
 who perpetrated the forgery ! ' SIVAD. ROM.' is ' MOR. 
 DAVIS,' beyond a doubt. And the wiseacres have had it 
 that the moneyer of Off a was Sivadius, a Roman, lent to Off a 
 by Pope Adrian as a mark of favour gained during the 
 Mercian King's residence in Rome. Well, I am convinced ! 
 I shall not bid for Mr. Davis's handiwork, meritorious as the 
 execution certainly is. So, sir, supposing you feel in- 
 clined to battle for the possession of the Tribute of Off a, 
 one formidable rival is removed from your path !" 
 
 " Sir," replied the American, who had inspected the 
 damning token while the 3'oung man was speaking, and now 
 handed it to me with a polite smile : " I should have sur- 
 mised that the gold penny would have made a pretty pen- 
 dant to the Lydian coin you wear upon your watch-chain, 
 but you may bet your whole team with the yalla dog under 
 the wagon that if you are unlikely to bid for it, I am con- 
 siderably more so ! Maybe this gentleman ambitiomses to 
 become the proud possessor of Mr. Davis's masterpiece ?" he 
 continued, adding as I smilingly shook my head, replacing 
 the gold penny in the box held by Colossus ; " I perceive 
 that Mr. Barker has removed himself with his wad, as silently 
 as a snail slips over a cabbage-leaf on a dewj r morning." 
 
 It was true. I had observed the shabby man, after the 
 exchange of a brief sentence or two with Miss Lowerne, pull 
 his soft felt hat down over his eyes, tfutton his shabby coat
 
 366 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 tightly, and hurry out of Pringold's, The swing-doors 
 banged-to behind him, as the huge commissionaire re- 
 entered the left-hand door leading to the auctioneer's 
 private offices, conveying the chef d'ceuvre of the gifted 
 Morgan Davis out of our sight, possibly not for ever, I re- 
 flected, even as the musical voice of Miss Lowerne replied 
 to the American : 
 
 " The unhappy man has gone to comfort his sick wife and 
 feed his hungry children, sir, with the money that is honestly 
 his. Do you decline to credit your fellow-creature with the 
 possession even of the commonest virtues because poverty 
 compelled him to follow a dishonest trade ? Have you 
 really such absolute disbelief in human nature as you con- 
 tinually imply V 
 
 The imperturbable American smiled pleasantly, and 
 made the young lady a not ungraceful bow. 
 
 " As a member of the N'York Stock Exchange," he said, 
 in quite dulcet accents, k£ I may be sceptical — some ! — as 
 regards human nature. But I guess you will have to for- 
 give me for saying — you have in your own person convinced 
 me, Miss Lowerne — that angels do occasionally visit this 
 little old planet ! And as angels, to be angels at all, must 
 be devoid of what my fellow-countrymen would call ' push ' 
 in business, — in the interests of your poppa, whose family 
 secret you — with a seraphic confidence in the honesty of our 
 fallen human nature that I could not but admire even 
 while I regretted it ! — gave away in the hearing of five 
 complete strangers and this good gentleman " — his gloved 
 hand waved in the direction of Farmer Cow dray — " may 
 I be permitted to suggest that you take the very next cars 
 back to the parish of Glattenden Dyke in Lincolnshire, 
 scare up your garden help, and dig under that rock your 
 Latin parchment tells of — before that wheezing pulmonary 
 who has just waltzed, or any other person " — his sharp eye 
 glittered suspiciously about the room — " any other person 
 with a taste for Mercian coins, strikes ile before you ?" 

 
 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 367 
 
 The handsome young man turned impetuously to Miss 
 Lowerne. 
 
 " This gentleman gives you excellent advice, madam. 
 The vessel of forgeries was planted by the rogue Lucassa 
 at the south end of the Dyke — the real treasure-trove lies 
 yet, perhaps, at the north angle. Let me beg — let me 
 urgently implore you — to travel home by the next train, 
 charter honest labourers, and dig under the Dole Loaf 
 without delay ! Pay no heed to the expense ! I guarantee 
 it twenty times over, upon condition of being permitted to 
 share in the first examination of any coins you may find, 
 and purchase them at a fair price, for my collection !" His 
 pale face glowed, his eyes beamed with the excitement of 
 the ardent amateur as he snatched an A. B.C. Railway time- 
 table from where it hung, with other reference-books for 
 public use, upon the wall, and turned the leaves with eager 
 fingers, as he continued : " I had intended to bid for this 
 agglomeration of forged coins to-day : to gain that silver 
 penny of Cynethryth without the dot, and the gold one — 
 the invention of an inspired scoundrel — I was ready to 
 sacrifice the moiety of a fortune which is esteemed unusually 
 large. Permit me to introduce myself as Bernard Al do- 
 brand, ladies, the sole remaining and bachelor representative 
 of the great financial house of Aldobrand, the pillar which 
 has supported thrones and enabled Powers to take the field 
 in War. My auto-brougham waits outside. Give me the 
 privilege of taking you to King's Cross Station, after first 
 offering you luncheon at Prince's Restaurant ; there will be 
 ample time if you and your aunt will consent so to honour 
 me ? Thanks ! — thanks ! Permit me, madam ; allow me, 
 Miss Lowerne !" 
 
 And in a whirlwind of pleasurable excitement the enthu- 
 siastic Mr. Aldobrand led both the ladies out of Pringold's 
 auction-rooms. The swing-doors dully banged-to behind 
 the trio, darkness and chill seemed to settle back upon the 
 place, robbed of the sweet presence of the Vicar's gentle
 
 368 THE TRIBUTE OF OFFA 
 
 daughter. Shivering, I put on my hat and resumed my 
 overcoat, and as the New Yorker briskly buttoned his, 
 glancing at Farmer Cowdray, who remained immovable on 
 his chair. . . . 
 
 " I be gooin to steay," said this stolid specimen of a yeo- 
 man, " an' see what they silver fardins fetch i' the market. 
 As to Miss Cynether an' the Vicar's parchmint, that be all 
 my hoi ! They chaps what paid me for th' roight to dig i' 
 the Dyke foond all there be to foind : an' if they gets a 
 loomp o' money, be danged but I'll ha' my share o' it !" 
 
 " Old Hickory is great on small wheels," said the Ameri- 
 can, as the door under the white-faced clock opened and 
 Pringold trotted out, followed by his inseparable clerk. 
 He added, as we quitted the Galleries together, stemming 
 quite a rush of entering visitors, armed with the well-known 
 yellow catalogues, and eager for the fray : " But whether 
 that sweet young English girl discovers the genuine Tribute 
 of Offa under the Dole Loaf, or whether she does not, I 
 guess she has to-day found something that every properly- 
 constituted unmarried young lady, English or Amurrican, 
 regards as not only valooable, but indispensable to her 
 success and happiness in life !" 
 
 ' You mean . . . ?" I began, remembering the ardent 
 glances the handsome Aldobrand had cast upon the Vicar's 
 daughter, and the shy confidence that had beamed in her 
 answering look. 
 
 : ' Sir, you have hit it ! I mean, sir," said the American, 
 '' precisely that ! He added, as we parted, " In case I should 
 prove wrong I shall allow to have added the mammoth 
 variety of fool to the collection of Amos J. Sculpin !" 
 
 Mr. Amos J. Sculpin, I must own, has proved a true 
 prophet. No Mercian coins were found beneath the Dole 
 Loaf, but the marriage of the young millionaire, Bernard 
 Aldobrand, to Cynethryth Lowerne was announced in the 
 Times of yesterday. 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD
 
 A LIST OF 
 
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 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 THE MAGIC OF THE HILL 61- 
 
 " The book is in fact, to be read for its light-hearted pictures 
 of modern Paris, Paris seen with eyes of someone who 
 knows it intimately and loves it. Mr. Schwann has more 
 than a little of Thackeray's absorbing interest in minor 
 characters, minor events, and minor problems. The book 
 proves that Mr. Schwann, as a student of life, has the 
 right touch and the right humour."— The Standard. 
 
 21 BEDFORD STREET. LONDON, W.C.
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S NEW FICTION 
 
 THE NOVELS OF HALL CAINE 
 
 (of which over 3 million copies have been sold). 
 
 " These volumes are in every way a pleasure to read. Of 
 living authors, Mr. Hall Caine must certainly sway as 
 multitudinous a following as any living man. A novel from 
 his pen has become indeed for England and America 
 something of an international event." — Times. 
 
 Author ot 
 THE BONDMAN 6/-, 2/-, 7d. ne't. THE ETERNAL CITY 6/-, 2/- 
 CAPT'N DAVEYS HONEY- THE MANXMAN 6/-, 2/- 
 
 MOON 2/- THE PRODIGAL SON 6/- 
 
 MY STORY 6/-, 2/- net. THE SCAPEGOAT 6/-, 7d. net. 
 
 THE WHITE PROPHET 6/- THE CHRISTIAN 6/-, 2/- 
 
 A PORTENTOUS HISTORY 
 
 by ALFRED TENNYSON 6/- 
 
 "With considerable skill we are shown how ignorant and 
 conventional prejudice of ail the normal inhabitants of 
 the village are roused against the poor, good giant, only 
 because he is greater than they are. Mr. Tennyson gives 
 a vivid and unpleasant picture of prejudice and instinctive 
 cruelly. In Mr. Tennyson we have a new novelist with 
 something real and weighty to say."- V/estminster Qazette. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE OF 
 CAPTAIN KETTLE 
 
 by C. J. CUTCLIFFE HYNE 6/- 
 
 Author of "Captain Kettle,'' etc. 
 
 " When one has once opened ' The Marriage of Kettle ' 
 it is impossible to put it down unfinished. Mr. CutclifFe 
 Hyne has such a vivid pen and seems so intimately 
 acquainted with the sea and seafaring life, and introduces 
 us to so many humorous and realistic characters, that we 
 feel as if we had actually sailed with the great Kettle on 
 his adventurous voyages, and had shared his hairbreadth 
 escapes." — Evening Standard and St. James's Qazette. 
 
 21 BEDFORD STREET LONDON, W.C. 
 
 9
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S NEW FICTION 
 
 PASSION FRUIT 
 
 by E. G. VIVIAN 6/- 
 
 " The interest all through depends mainly upon the male 
 characters, who are drawn with unusual vigour and 
 certainty. . . . The book as a whole is marked by a breadth 
 of handling which sets it apart from the average novel." 
 
 — Morning Post. 
 
 "'Passion Fruit 'is the work of a past-master in story 
 telling."— Sheffield Independent. 
 
 BORROWERS OF FORTUNE 
 
 by JESSIE LECKIE HERBERTSON 6/- 
 
 Author of "Young Life," etc. 
 
 A novel of happier vein than has sometimes been the case 
 with Miss Herbertson. Her lighter heart is as infectious 
 as her gravity was impressive. 
 
 THE DECLENSION OF 
 HENRY D'ALBIAC 
 
 by V. GOLDIE 6/- 
 
 Author of "Nigel Thomson," and "Majorie Stevens." 
 
 ' It is by far the best and the liveliest of the suffragist 
 stories we have come across, though by the way, the 
 particular propaganda is by no means the chief object of 
 the book. Indeed, propaganda of any kind is in its pages 
 always subordinate to the author's abundant and vivacious 
 sense of humour."- ^Manchester Guardian. 
 
 21 BEDFORD STREET,. LONDON, W G. 
 
 10
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S NEW FICTION 
 
 THE STORY OF STEPHEN 
 COMPTON 
 
 by J. E. PATTERSON 6/- 
 
 Author of " Tillers of the Son," etc. 
 
 " Mr. Patterson is one of the most promising and powerful 
 writers in the great army of our novelists. His strong, 
 direct way of writing, and his gift for portraying certain 
 characters are very effective and appealing." 
 
 — Daily Chronicle. 
 
 By THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 LOVE LIKE THE SEA 61- 
 
 ' He tells his story to the sound of wind and waves, and 
 if now and again his ardour for and knowledge of the sea 
 leads him aside from the purpose of his scheme, the 
 digressions are so admirably done that the book would 
 lose from the point of view of literary interest were they 
 omitted. . . . The three principal characters are well 
 drawn (there are minor ones also excellently delineated)." 
 
 — The Globe. 
 
 TALES OF THE UiNEASY 
 
 by VIOLET HUNT (j/- 
 
 Author of " The Wife of Altamont." 
 
 ' Miss Violet Hunt is eminently skilful, albeit a relentless 
 ' raconteuse', the light of her inspiration burns with a hard 
 gemlike flame. Miss Hunt has gained greatly in craftsman- 
 ship during the last few years: her style is excellent, her 
 grip of subjects sure, and her insight exceptionally clear 
 and sane."— The Athenaeum. 
 
 21 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON. W.C. 
 
 TI
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINiiMANN'S NEW FICTION 
 
 BURNING DAYLIGHT 
 
 by JACK LONDON 6/- 
 
 Author of "The Gall of the Wild," " Martin Eden," etc. 
 
 " I have long regarded the stories of Mr. Jack London as 
 a welcome relief from the dulness of most contempouary 
 fiction, and his latest, ' Burning Daylight,' did not dis- 
 appoint me in this respect. No one who has read the 
 author's previous works will need to be told with what 
 wonderful skill the atmosphere of this grim and unfriendly 
 land is conveyed. There is one chapter, especially, 
 which tells how, for a bet, Daylight raced two thousand 
 miles over anjUnbroken trail of ice in sixty days that seems 
 to me absolutely the best piece of descriptive writing of 
 its kind that ever I read." — Punch. 
 
 ESTHER 
 
 by AGNES E. JACOMB 6/ 
 
 "The book is well written and the characters are well 
 drawn."— Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 "Miss Jacomb has written in Esther a very interesting 
 novel ; its situations are original, and the characters are 
 sufficiently individual to make a convincing whole. . . ." 
 
 —Morning Post. 
 
 THE GETTING OF WISDOM 
 
 by HENRY HANDEL RICHARDSON 6/- 
 
 Author of " Maurice Guest." 
 
 "An extraordinarily intimate and sympathetic study of a 
 little girl and of the influence school-life has upon her 
 gives unusual charm and interest to this story." 
 
 —Daily Mail. 
 " ' Stalky for Girls' might very well be the sub-title of Mr. 
 Richardson's story. What s Stalky & Co.' did for the 
 boy, 'The Getting of Wisdom' tries to do for the girl. 
 It is a bright, vivid piece of character writing." 
 
 — Saturday Review. 
 
 21 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON. W.C. 
 
 12
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S NEW FICTION 
 
 ADNAM'S ORCHARD 
 
 by SARAH GRAND 6/- 
 
 Author of 
 
 THE HEAVENLY TWINS THE BETH BOOK 
 
 IDEALA OUR MANIFOLD NATURE 
 
 etc., etc. 
 
 "Admirers of Mrs. Grand will be glad to find in her new 
 book ' Adnam's Orchard' the same vivacity and the same 
 provocative spirit that gave its wide currency to her 
 ' Heavenly I wins.' Both qualities sustain and inspire 
 her to the last page of the six hundred and thirty which 
 make up her latest novel." — Morning Post. 
 
 LESS THAN THE DUST 
 
 by MARY AGNES HAMILTON 6/- 
 
 'There is something delightfully fresh in the method of 
 treatment, something that seems to mark the passing of - 
 another milestone in the work of the literary woman. 
 Literary is the right word, for Miss Hamilton's style bears 
 the stamp of a natural purity of diction, while her analysis 
 of emotion and character is keen without being over- 
 protracted."— 'Daily Telegraph. 
 
 THE COST OF IT 
 
 by ELEANOR MORDAUNT 6/- 
 
 Author of " The Garden of Contentment." 
 
 "Packed full of character and real life. . . The character 
 of the heroine is admirably drawn upon quite uncon- 
 ventional lines .... the situation is worked out with 
 remarkable vigour and intensity. This is a fine, power- 
 ful and impressive novel, triumphing over inadequacies 
 of literary training by sheer force of sincerity and of 
 glowing human sentiment. — Daily Telegraph. 
 
 21 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON, W.C
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S NEW FICTION 
 
 A RUNAWAY RING 
 
 by Mrs. HENRY E. DUDENEY 6/- 
 
 Author of "Maids' Money," "The Orchard Thief," " A Large Room," 
 etc. 
 
 " Her previous work has been good, but in ' A Runaway 
 Ring ' she has surpassed her best previous efforts, and it 
 is no easy matter to do her sufficient honour. To make a 
 romance from life's * tedious afternoon ' without being 
 simply sentimental is a task which scarcely any accom- 
 plish, and so, when the thing is done, it can only be 
 judged on its own merits and without comparison." 
 
 — The Standard. 
 
 THE ADJUSTMENT 
 
 by MARGUERITE BRYANT 6/- 
 
 Author of " Christopher Hibbault, Roadmaker," etc. 
 
 '"The Adjustment' . . . is a notable novel." 
 
 — Westminster Gazette. 
 
 "It is an admirable book, of an original and impressive 
 nature, the authoress well understands the portrayal of 
 human passions, whether love or hate, and makes her 
 characters singularly attractive. . . . Many excellent 
 situations add to the general interest. . . . We advise all 
 who enjoy a thoroughly good novel to add 'The Adjust- 
 ment' to their library list." — The Globe. 
 
 THE HIPPODROME 
 
 by RACHEL HAYWARD 6/- 
 
 lllustrated by CLARA WATERS. 
 
 A brightly coloured story, the scene of which is laid in 
 Barcelona. A young Irish girl who is dependent on her- 
 self for a means of subsistence becomes a "star" turn at 
 a circus. While in the back-waters of that existence she 
 falls in with certain gentlemen of international impor- 
 tance. She becomes their dupe and slave and passes 
 through many adventures. But there is a way of escape 
 and she takes it. Decidedly a book of swift movement 
 and keen excitement. 
 
 21 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON, W.G.
 
 MR. WILLIAM H EINEMANN'S NEW FICTION 
 
 THE DEVOURERS 
 
 by ANNIE VIVANTI GHARTRES 6/- 
 
 " The book is delightfully written. . . . Mrs. Chartres 
 has humour, she has style, she has pathos." — The Standard. 
 
 " It is a great feat for any author to succeed in interesting 
 her readers in three successive generations of heroines 
 within the covers of a single novel without diminution of 
 sympathy ; yet that feat has been accomplished in * The 
 Devourers ' . . . it is an irresistible story and full of 
 sympathetic charm." — The (Evening Standard. 
 
 THE LIFE MA.SK 6/ 
 
 by the Author of " He Who Passed." 
 
 " A highly remarkable novel, with a plot both striking 
 
 and original, and written in a style quite distinctive and 
 
 charming." 
 
 " Seldom, if ever, has a tale given me so genuine a 
 
 surprise or such an unexpectedly creepy sensation." 
 
 Punch. 
 
 HE WHO PASSED 
 
 To M. L. G. 6/ 
 
 » / 
 
 "As a story, it is one of the most enthralling I have read 
 for a long time . . . Six — seven o'clock struck — half- 
 past-seven — and yet this extraordinary narrative of a 
 woman's life held me absolutely enthralled ... I forgot 
 the weather; I forgot my own grievances; I forgot every- 
 thing, in fact, under the spell of this wonderful book. 
 . . . . In fact the whole book bears the stamp of reality 
 from cover to cover. There is hardly a false or strained 
 note in it. It is the ruthless study of a woman's life. . . 
 If it is not the novel of the season, the season is not likely 
 to give us anything much better." — The Taller. 
 
 21 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 15
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S NEW FICTION 
 
 THE NOVELS OF LEO TOLSTOY 
 
 Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT 
 
 ANNA KARENIN 2/6 net 
 
 WAR AND PEACE 3/6 net 
 
 " Mrs. Garnett's translations from the Russian are always 
 distinguished by most careful accuracy and a fine literary 
 flavour. In this new rendering of Tolstoy she has sur- 
 passed herself."— The Bookman. 
 
 " Mrs. Garnett's translation has all the ease and vigour 
 which Matthew Arnold found in French versions of 
 Russian novels and missed in English. She is indeed 
 so successful that, but for the names, one might easily 
 forget he was reading a foreign author." 
 
 — The Contemporary Review. 
 
 THE NOVELS OF DOSTOEVSKY 
 
 Translated by CONSTANCE GARNETT 
 
 "By the genius of Dostoevsky you are always in the 
 presence of living, passionate characters. They are not 
 puppets, they are not acting to keep the plot in motion. 
 They are men and women — I shoidd say you can hear 
 them breathe — irresistibly moving to their appointed 
 ends." — (Evening £A£ea>s. 
 
 I. THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV 
 
 3/6 net 
 
 " No other writer perhaps has given to materials so ugly, 
 not merely strength and life, but grave pathos and tragic 
 beauty." — Times. 
 
 II. THE IDIOT 
 
 Ready Shortly: 
 Now for the first time translated in full from the Russian by 
 CONSTANCE GARNETT, translator of the Novels of 
 TURGENEV and TOLSTOY. 
 
 21 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON, W.G. 
 
 16
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY F/ 
 
 AA 000 369 126