In view of Val's appointment, it was natural that it should turn on the Colonies. Val himself hinted that the Foreign Office would have given more scope for his specialty (he meant North Africa, not the "Religion of Primitive Man"); but Miss Constantine was hot on the Colonies, going so far, indeed, as to get out an atlas and discuss thousands of square miles, and wheat belts, and things like that. Once or twice I fancied that the new Under-Secretary would have been glad not to be quite so new; a few days of coaching from, say, Kirby (Had she had-? At lunch? No; it was hardly thinkable; he couldn't have taken that moment to instruct her) would have equipped him better for her excellently informed conversation. As for poor Lexington, he broke down entirely when she got out to Assiniboia and Saskatchewan, and said frankly that in his opinion there was more of Canada than any man could be expected to know about. That did not seem to be at all Miss Constantine's view. She was stopped only by the ocean. I am not sure that a vaulting ambition did not confederate Japan.

Val was delighted. Miss Constantine was so cordial, so interested, so congratulatory on his appointment. There was, as it seemed to me, a serenity in her manner which had recently been lacking-a return of her old assurance, softened still, but not now by the air of appeal; it was rather by an extreme friendliness. Val must have felt the friendliness too, I think, for he expanded wonderfully, discoursing with marvellous fecundity, and with a knowledge as extensive as it was indefinite, of the British possessions beyond the seas. All said and done, he knew a lot more than I did; but, then, I was not his competitor.

So we got on splendidly together. Lady Lexington beamed, her lord warmed himself happily, Miss Constantine was graciousness itself, Val basked and blossomed and I wondered what the deuce had happened at Mrs Something Simpson's flat in Westminster.

(Her real name was Whitaker Simpson, and I believe Jane knew it quite well.)

Yes, she was monstrously friendly-distrust that in your mistress whether wooed or won. She would do everything for Val that afternoon, except be left alone with him. The Lexingtons went-you can hardly stop people going in their own house; Miss Boots and Mr Sharples, who were both there, went-to church. I tried to go, but she wouldn't let me. Her refusal was quite obvious: Val-he was impeccable in mannerssaw it. After precisely the right interval he rose and took his leave. I had the atlas on my knees then (we had got back to Assiniboia), and I studied it hard; but, honestly, I couldn't help hearing. The tones of her voice, at least, hinted at no desire for privacy.

"Once more a thousand congratulations—a thousand hopes for your success," she said, giving him her hand, as I suppose my eyes were on the atlas.

"After that, I shall feel I'm working for you," he replied gallantly. No doubt his very fine eyes pointed the remark.

"Shall you?" she said, and laughed a little. "Oh, you'll-I'll write you a note quite soon-to-morrow or Tuesday. I won't forget. And-good-bye!"

"To-morrow or Tuesday? That's certain?" His voice had an eagerness in it now.

"Yes, certain. I won't forget. And-good-bye!" "Good-bye!" he said, and I heard the door open. "A thousand hopes!" she said again.

I suppose he made some response, but in words he made none. The door closed behind him.

I put the atlas on the sofa by me, got up, and went to her.

"I suppose I may go now, too?" I said.

"How clever you're growing, Mr Wynne! But just let him get out of the house. We mustn't give it away."

A moment or two we stood in silence. Then she

said: "You understand things. You shall have a note too-and a thousand hopes. And-good-bye!"

Not a suspicion of the meaning of this afternoon's scene crossed my mind, which fact proved me, I daresay, to be very stupid. But Val was hardly likely to see more clearly, and I can't altogether justify the play she made with the atlas and Assiniboia. As an exercise in irony, however, it had its point.

VIII

I Do not know what was in Val's note: more of goodbye, and more than a thousand hopes, I imagine. Is it fanciful to mark that she had always said "hope" and never "confidence"? Mine bade me be at a certain corner of a certain street at eleven-thirty. "Where you will find me. Say nothing about it." It was a little hard to say nothing whatever to Jane.

I went and met them at the corner-Mrs Something Simpson, Kirby, and Miss Constantine. Thence we repaired to a registry office, and they (I do not include Mrs Simpson) were married. They were to sail from Liverpool that afternoon, and we went straight from the office to Euston. I think it was only when the question of luggage arose that I gasped out, "Where are you going?

"To Canada," said Kirby briskly.

"For your trip?"

"For good and all," he answered. "I've got leaveand sent in my resignation."

"And I've sent in my resignation too," she said. "Mr Wynne, try to think of me as only half a coward."

"I-I don't understand," I stammered.

"But it's your own doing," he said. "Over there she won't be a failure all her life!"

"Not because I've married him, at any rate," Katharine said, looking very happy.

"I told you I should settle it-and so I did," Kirby added. "And I'm grateful to you. I'm always grateful to a fellow who makes me understand."

"Good heavens!" I cried. "You're not making me responsible?"

"For all that follows!" she answered, with a merry laugh. "Yes!"

That's all very well, but suppose he gets to the top of the tree, as the fellow will, and issues a Declaration of Independence? At least he'll be Premier, and come over to a conference some day. Val will be Secretary for the Colonies, probably (unless he has come that cropper). There's a situation for you! Well, I shall just leave town. I daresay I sha'n't be missed.

Lady Lexington carried it off well. She said that, from a strain of romance she had observed in the girl, the marriage was just what was to be expected of Katharine Constantine.

SLIM-FINGERED JIM

I

"WHAT did he get ?" I asked. I had been work

ing in my own room all the morning and had

not seen the papers-they arrived from London about half-past eleven.

"Seven years' penal servitude," said our host the Major with grim satisfaction.

"Stiff!" I commented.

"Not a bit too much," asserted the Major, helping himself to game pie again-he is a good luncher. "He's a thoroughly bad lot-a professional thief, and a deuced clever one. It's his first conviction, but it ought to have been his tenth, I should say."

"He was certainly in that big American bond robbery," said Crookes, "though he got off that time. Oxford man, wasn't he?"

"Yes. In fact, I believe I was up one term with him," said Millington. "I must have seen him, I think, but I can't remember him.”

"Dear, dear!" our hostess observed, shocked apparently at this close proximity to the criminal classes.

"Rather good what the chap said when he'd been sentenced," drawled Charlie Pryce. "See it? Well, he bowed to the judge, and then he bowed to the jury, and smiled, and shrugged his shoulders, and said: 'The risks of the profession, gentlemen! Au revoir!' Jolly good cheek!" Charlie's round red face-he is very well nourished, as they say at inquests-beamed almost sympathetically.