nk of seeing at once. We mustn't let
the grass grow under our feet for one moment.'

'My dear boy,' said Ericson good-humouredly, 'the grass shall grow under
my feet to-day, so far as all that is concerned. I haven't been in
London for ten years, and I have something to do before I do anything
else. To-morrow you may do as you please with me. But if you insist upon
devoting this day to the cause----'

'Of course I do,' said Hamilton.

'Then I graciously permit you to work at it all day, while I go off and
amuse myself in a way of my own. You might, if you can spare the time,
make a call at the Foreign Office and say I should be glad to wait on
Sir Rupert Langley there, any day and hour that suit him--we must smooth
down the dignity of these Foreign Secretaries, I suppose?'

'Oh, of course,' Hamilton said, peremptorily. Hamilton took most things
gravely; the Dictator usually did not. Hamilton seemed a little put out
because his chief should have even indirectly suggested the possibility
of his not waiting on Sir Rupert Langley at the Foreign Office.

'All right, boy; it shall be done. And look here, Hamilton, as we are
going to do the right thing, why should you not leave cards for me and
for yourself at Sir Rupert Langley's house? You might see the daughter.'

'Oh, she never heard of me,' Hamilton said hastily.

'The daughter of a Foreign Secretary?'

'Anyhow, of course I'll call if you wish it, Excellency.'

'Good boy! And do you know I have taken a fancy that I should like to
see this soldier of fortune, Captain----'

'Sarrasin?'

'Sarrasin--yes. Will you drop him a line and suggest an
interview--pretty soon? You know all about my times and engagements.'

'Certainly, your Excellency,' Hamilton replied, with almost military
formality and precision; and the Dictator departed.

CHAPTER III

AT THE GARDEN GATE

Londoners are so habituated to hear London abused as an ugly city that
they are disposed too often to accept the accusation humbly. Yet the
accusation is singularly unjust. If much of London is extremely
unlovely, much might fairly be called beautiful. The new Chelsea that
has arisen on the ashes of the old might well arouse the admiration even
of the most exasperated foreigner. There are recently created regions in
that great tract of the earth's surface known as South Kensington which
in their quaintness of architectural form and braveness of red brick can
defy the gloom of a civic March