ctionable in the case of an Englishman. What business had
an Englishman--one who claims apparently to be an English
gentleman--what business had he with a lot of South American
Republicans? What did he want among such people? Why should he care
about them? Why should he want to govern them? And if he did want to
govern them, why did he not stay there and govern? The thing was in any
case mere bravado, and melodramatic enterprise.

It was the morning after the day when the Dictator had proposed to
Helena for poor Hamilton. Soame Rivers met Helena on the staircase.

'Of course,' he said, with an emphasis, '_you_ will be at luncheon
to-day?'

'Why, of course?' she asked, carelessly.

'Well--your hero is coming--didn't you know?'

'I didn't know; and who is my hero?'

'Oh, come now!--the Dictator, of course.'

'_Is_ he coming?' she asked, with a sudden gleam of genuine emotion
flashing over her face.

'Yes; your father particularly wants him to meet Sir Lionel Rainey.'

'Oh, I didn't know. Well, yes--I shall be there, I suppose, if I feel
well enough.'

'Are you not well?' Rivers asked, with a tone of somewhat artificial
tenderness in his voice.

'Oh, yes, I am all right; but I might not feel quite up to the level of
Sir Lionel Rainey. Only men, of course?'

'Only men.'

'Well, I shall think it over.'

'But you can't want to miss your Dictator?'

'My Dictator will probably not miss me,' the girl said in scornful tones
which brought no comfort to the heart of Soame Rivers.

'You would be very sorry if he did not miss you,' Soame Rivers said
blunderingly. Your cynical man of the world has his feelings and his
angers.

'Very sorry!' Helena defiantly declared.

The Dictator came punctually at two--he was always punctual. To-to was
friendly, but did not conduct him. He was shown at once into the
dining-room, where luncheon was laid out. The room looked lonely to the
Dictator. Helena was not there.

'My daughter is not coming down to luncheon,' Sir Rupert said.

'I am so sorry,' the Dictator said. 'Nothing serious, I hope?'

'Oh, no!--a cold, or something like that--she didn't tell me. She will
be quite well, I hope, to-morrow. You see how To-to keeps her place.'

Ericson then saw that To-to was seated resolutely on the chair which
Helena usually occupied at luncheon.

'But what is the use if she is not coming?' the Dictator suggested--not
to disparage the intelligence of To-to, but only to find out,