a conquering pagan emperor. Then
the car moved off out of the heap of rubbish, once a village, amid which
the incident had taken place. At the same moment, a brick, accurately
thrown, sent the golden helmet spinning into the road!

"Search was made for it, but the helmet was never found. I don't _know_
who threw the brick, Paul (Duveen was under arrest at the time), but
that is the helmet above his widow's mantelpiece! The men who have
witnessed incidents of this kind will no longer continue to believe in
the veneer of modern life, for they will know that the true savage lies
hidden somewhere underneath."

* * * * *

They were come to the end of Babylon Lane and stood now upon the London
road. Above the cornfield on the right hovered a sweet-voiced lark and
the wild hedges were astir with active bird life. Velvet bees droned on
their way and the air was laden with the fragrance of an English summer.
Along the road flashed a motor bicycle, bearing a khaki-clad messenger
and above the distant town flew a Farman biplane gleaming in the
sunlight. The remote strains of a military band were audible.

"The Roman road," mused Don, "constructed in the misty unimaginable
past, for war, and used by us to-day--for war. Oh, lud! in a week I
shall be in the thick of it again. Babylon Hall? Who resides at that
imposing mansion, Paul?"

They stood before the open gates of a fine Georgian building, lying far
back from the road amid neatly striped lawns and well-kept gardens.

"The celebrated Jules Thessaly, I believe," replied Paul; "but I have
never met him."

"Jules Thessaly! Really? I met him only three months ago near Bethune
(a neighbourhood which I always associate with Milady and the headsman
in _The Three Musketeers_)."

"What was he doing in Bethune?"

"What does he do anywhere? He was visiting the French and British
fronts, accompanied by an imposing array of 'Staffs.' He has tremendous
influence of some kind--financial probably."

"An interesting character. I hope we may meet. By the way, do you manage
to do much work nowadays? I rarely see your name."

"It is impossible to do anything but war stuff, Paul, when one is in the
middle of it. You saw the set of drawings I did for _The Courier_?"

"Yes; I thought them fine. I have them in album form. They were
excellently noticed throughout the press."

Don's face assumed an expression of whimsical disgust. "There is a
certain type o