ve Escott twelve breaks and a beating
at billiards, and then having borrowed and approved of one of his cigars,
he strolled into the park. If he intended to escape observation, he
certainly showed the most skilful strategy, for he dodged deviously
through the largest trees, and at last, after a roundabout ramble, struck
a sheltered walk that ran underneath the high, glass-decked outer wall. It
was a sunny winter afternoon. The boughs were stripped, and the leaves lay
littered on the walk or flickered and stirred through the grass. In this
spot the high trees stood so close and the bare branches were so thick
that there was still an air of quiet and seclusion where he paced and
smoked. Every now and then he stopped and listened and looked at his
watch, and as he walked backwards and forwards an amused smile would come
and go.

All at once he heard something move on the far side of the wall: he paused
to make sure, and then he whistled, the sounds outside ceased, and in a
moment something fell softly behind him. He turned quickly and snatched up
a little buttonhole of flowers with a still smaller note tied to the
stems.

"An uncommonly happy idea," he said to himself, looking at the missive
with the air of one versed in these matters. Then he leisurely proceeded
to unfold and read the note.

"To my friend," he read, "if I may call you a friend, since I have known
you only _such a short time_--may I? This is just to express my sympathy,
and although I cannot express it well, still perhaps you will forgive my
feeble effort!!"

At this point, just as he was regarding the double mark of exclamation
with reminiscent entertainment, a plaintive voice from the other side of
the wall cried in a stage whisper, "Have you got it?"

Mr Beveridge composed his face, and heaving his shoulders to his ears in
the effort, gave vent to a prodigious sigh.

"A million thanks, my fairest and kindest of friends," he answered in the
same tone. "I read it now: I drink it in, I----"

He kissed the back of his hand loudly two or three times, sighed again,
and continued his reading.

"I wish I could help you," it ran, "but I am afraid I cannot, as the world
is _so censorious_, is it not? So you must accept a friend's sympathy if
it does not seem to you too bold and forward of her!!! Perhaps we may meet
again, as I sometimes go to Clankwood. _Au revoir._--Your sympathetic
well-wisher. A. A. F."

He folded it up and put it in his waistcoat-p