y lord', instantly fell from him when I enunciated
the word 'compensation'. His eyes narrowed, and all the native
shrewdness of an adept skinflint appeared in his face. I shall do him
the justice to say that he drove the very best bargain he could with
me, and I, on my part, very deftly concealed from him the fact that I
was so much interested in the affair that I should have gone down to
Rantremly for nothing rather than forgo the privilege of ransacking
Rantremly Castle.

When the new earl had taken his departure, walking to the door with
the haughty air of a nobleman, then bowing to me with the affability
of a business man, I left my flat, took a cab, and speedily found
myself climbing the stair to the first floor of 51 Beaumont Street,
Strand. As I paused at the door on which were painted the words, 'S.
Brooks, Stenography, Typewriting, Translation', I heard the rapid
click-click of a machine inside. Knocking at the door the writing
ceased, and I was bidden to enter. The room was but meagrely
furnished, and showed scant signs of prosperity. On a small
side-table, clean, but uncovered, the breakfast dishes, washed, but
not yet put away, stood, and the kettle on the hob by the dying fire
led me to infer that the typewriting woman was her own cook. I
suspected that the awkward-looking sofa which partly occupied one side
of the room, concealed a bed. By the lone front window stood the
typewriting machine on a small stand, and in front of it sat the woman
who had visited me the morning before. She was now gazing at me,
probably hoping I was a customer, for there was no recognition in her
eyes.

'Good-morning, Lady Rantremly,' was my greeting, which caused her to
spring immediately to her feet, with a little exclamation of surprise.

'Oh,' she said at last, 'you are Monsieur Valmont. Excuse me that I am
so stupid. Will you take a chair?'

'Thank you, madam. It is I who should ask to be excused for so
unceremonious a morning call. I have come to ask you a question. Can
you cook?'

The lady looked at me with some surprise, mingled perhaps with so much
of indignation as such a mild person could assume. She did not reply,
but, glancing at the kettle, and then turning towards the breakfast
dishes on the table by the wall, a slow flush of colour suffused her
wan cheeks.

'My lady,' I said at last, as the silence became embarrassing, 'you
must pardon the impulse of a foreigner who finds himself constantly
brought into c