ow is that if there were an Exhibition of Stamp
Collections, he would be the first to pass the door." Luttrell rose from
his chair.

"Therefore," he added in conclusion, "Sir Chichester is of great value
to us at Senga. We elected him to the mess with every formality, and
some day, when we have leisure, we shall send a deputation up the Nile
to shoot a Mrs. Grey's Antelope to decorate Rackham Park." He turned to
Hillyard. "We have a few yards to walk, and it is time."

The two friends walked down the stairs and turned along the road,
Hillyard still debating what was, after all, the value of Sir Chichester
Splay to the Senga mess. It had seemed to him that Luttrell had not
wished for further questions on the balcony, but, now that the two were
alone, he asked:

"I don't see it," he said; and Luttrell stopped abruptly and turned to
him.

"Don't you, Martin?" he asked gently. All the merriment had gone from
his face and voice. "If you were with us for a week you would. It's just
the value of a little familiar joke always on tap. Here are a handful of
us. We eat together, morning, noon, and night; we work together; we play
polo together--we can never get away from each other. And in consequence
we get on each other's nerves, especially in the months of hot weather.
Ill-temper comes to the top. We quarrel. Irreparable things might be
said. That's where Sir Chichester Splay comes in. When the quarrel's
getting bitter, we refer it to his arbitration. And, since he has no
opinions, we laugh and are saved." Luttrell resumed his walk to the
Governor's house.

"Yes, I see now," said Hillyard.

"You had an instance to-night," Luttrell added, as they went in at the
door. "It's a serious matter--the order of a Province and a great many
lives, and the cost of troops from Khartum, and the careers of all of us
are at stake. I think that I am right, and it is for me to say. They
disagree. Yes, Sir Chichester Splay saved us to-night, and"--a smile
suddenly broke upon his serious face--"I really should like to meet
him."

"I will arrange it when we are both in London," Hillyard returned.

He did not forget that promise. But he was often afterwards to recall
this moment when he made it--the silent hall, the door open upon the
hot, still night, the moon just beginning to gild the dark sky, and the
two men standing together, neither with a suspicion of the life-long
consequences which were to spring from the casual suggestion and th