rked in words or figures upon them."

"Everybody knows what they are," Philip answered lightly. Though for a
moment, taken aback by the novelty of the idea, he almost admitted
in his own mind that to people who had the misfortune to be born
foreigners, there WAS perhaps a slight initial difficulty in this
unlettered system. But then, you cannot expect England to be regulated
throughout for the benefit of foreigners! Though, to be sure, on the
one occasion when Philip had visited the Rhine and Switzerland, he
had grumbled most consumedly from Ostend to Grindelwald, at those very
decimal coins which the stranger seemed to admire so much, and had
wondered why the deuce Belgium, Germany, Holland, and Switzerland could
not agree among themselves upon a uniform coinage; it would be so much
more convenient to the British tourist. For the British tourist, of
course, is NOT a foreigner.

On the door-step of Miss Blake's Furnished Apartments for Families
and Gentlemen, the stranger stopped again. "One more question," he
interposed in that same suave voice, "if I'm not trespassing too much
on your time and patience. For what sort of term--by the day, month,
year--does one usually take lodgings?"

"Why, by the week, of course," Philip answered, suppressing a broad
smile of absolute surprise at the man's childish ignorance.

"And how much shall I have to pay?" the Alien went on quietly. "Have you
any fixed rule about it?"

"Of course not," Philip answered, unable any longer to restrain his
amusement (everything in England was "of course" to Philip). "You pay
according to the sort of accommodation you require, the number of your
rooms, and the nature of the neighbourhood."

"I see," the Alien replied, imperturbably polite, in spite of Philip's
condescending manner. "And what do I pay per room in this latitude and
longitude?"

For twenty seconds, Philip half suspected his new acquaintance of a
desire to chaff him: but as at the same time the Alien drew from his
pocket a sort of combined compass and chronometer which he gravely
consulted for his geographical bearings, Philip came to the conclusion
he must be either a seafaring man or an escaped lunatic. So he answered
him to the point. "I should think," he said quietly, "as Miss Blake's
are extremely respectable lodgings, in a first-rate quarter, and with
a splendid view, you'll probably have to pay somewhere about three
guineas."

"Three what?" the stranger interposed, with