fraid your
position is not so enviable as I fancied at first. I shouldn't care
myself to settle such delicate points."

"Nonsense!" she replied, "these are crumpled rose leaves. The agency is
paying splendidly. I am making my fortune, and at the same time
conferring a boon on society. Why there is no longer a dearth of
partners at dances, as most girls bring a Brother. In fact, the agency
is doing so well that I shall soon have to take larger premises."

"Well, Miss Buller," I said, taking up my hat, "I hardly know how to
thank you for your courtesy and patience in answering all my questions.
I now thoroughly understand the working of your excellent agency, and I
am sure that it is a scheme that will continue to flourish."

"Till the Brothers form a Union, and go out on strike," replied Miss
Buller gaily. "The demand already exceeds the supply!"

She rang the bell, and a neat parlourmaid showed me out.

As I walked away, I marvelled that this inspired scheme, which bids fair
to revolutionise modern society, should be the fruit of one mind.

I also thought with pleasure of my next meeting with Grigsby.

[Illustration]

_My Own Murderer._

BY E. J. GOODMAN.

ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. GREIG.

-----

When I say that my name is Samuel Chillip, of course you will know who I
am. Yes, I am the author--it has been said the famous author--of "The
Poisoned Waterbottle," "Steeped in Gore," "The Demon Detective," and
other highly sensational and blood-curdling stories. But though these
tales of mine have brought me some fame and a fair amount of profit, I
am not particularly proud of them. I really don't know how I, so to
speak, drifted into crime. I never liked it, and, of course, never
practised it myself. I would much rather have written sentimental or
moral stories, but I seemed somehow fated to turn my attention to fraud
and violence, and I could not get away from such subjects.

I am a family man with a wife and children, and live the most
domesticated and harmless of lives. I rent a small villa at St. John's
Wood, and have got a pretty garden, which I cultivate myself. I take my
children out for walks in the Park, and have even been known to nurse
the baby. Never was there a man whose mode of life was so different from
his mode of getting a living. I burn the midnight oil, that is to say, I
do my best work at night. The cares of a large family distract me so
much that I can never concentrate my atten