ave me a jolly good breakfast before they
sent me off, and that was about the best thing I had had for twelve
long hours. It was eleven o'clock when I got back to town at last.
And at three o'clock precisely I saw my mistress again.

You will readily imagine that I was glad of this interview, and had
been looking forward to it anxiously from the time I drove the car into
the stable until the moment it came off. Miss Dartel had a flat in
Bayswater just then; but she didn't send for me there, and it was at
the theatre I saw her, in her own dressing-room between the acts of a
rehearsal. A clean-shaven gentleman was talking to her when I went in,
and for a little while I didn't recognise him; but presently he turned
round, and something in his manner and tone of voice caused me to look
up sharp enough.

"Why," says I, "his lordship!"

They both laughed at this, and Miss Dartel held up her finger.

"Whatever are you saying, Britten?" cried she. "That's Mr. Jermyn, of
the Hicks Theatre."

"Jermyn or French," says I, my temper getting up, "he's the man I drove
to Five Corners last night--and fifteen pounds he owes me, neither more
nor less."

Well, they both laughed again, and the gentleman, he took a pocket-book
from the inside pocket of his coat and laid three five-pound notes on
the table. While they were there, Miss Dartel puts her pretty fingers
upon them, and begins to speak quite confidentially--

"Britten," says she, "there's fifteen pounds. I daresay it would be
fifty if you had a very bad memory, Britten, and couldn't recognise the
gentleman you picked up last night. Now, do you think you have such a
bad memory as all that?"

I twigged it in a minute, and answered them quite honestly.

"I must know more or less, madame," says I. "Remember my interests are
not this gentleman's interests."

"Oh, that's quite fair, Britten, though naturally, we know nothing.
But they do say that poor Lord Crossborough has gone quite silly about
the rural life. He's been reading Tolstoy's books, and wants to live
upon a shilling a day; while poor Lady Crossborough, who knows my
cousin, Captain Blackham, very well, she's bored to death, and it will
kill her if it goes on. So, you see, she persuaded his lordship to
give that funny party at his old house in Portman Square last night,
and all the papers are laughing at it to-day, and he'll be chaffed out
of his life. I'm sure Lady Crossborough will get her way now, Bri