hosts and fixed a
splendid array of troops all along the Franco-German frontier. Next we
invaded Germany and Austria from the other side with several Russian
armies and put some local troops to meet them. Without boasting, I think
I may say the result was very pretty. But to our dismay we found we had
a number of armies left. Helen said they must fight somewhere.

"You can't keep all those troops idle," she said. "Look at the waste of
good material."

"That's true," I admitted. "Perhaps my newspaper can help."

It did indeed contain enough rumours of battles to dispose of all our
flags and a few dozen besides, but at the same time it urged me to
accept unofficial statements with the greatest reserve. Mr. F. E. SMITH,
it declared (it was a Liberal print; such are the vicissitudes of war)
was the only reliable authority. Helen and I decided we could accept
information from him alone. But Mr. SMITH gave us no help. I was worried
for the moment, I admit; here were all these armies left in the envelope
with nowhere to go to.

Then I had an inspiration such as comes to a man but seldom in a
lifetime. The Fates should decide.

I pushed the furniture out of the way, led Helen to the other side of
the room, blindfolded her, and thrust a British army into her hand.

"The idea is to walk across the room without looking and stick it
somewhere on the map," I explained. "Scandinavia and the Peninsula are
out of bounds until we hear further from the KAISER. If you hit them you
have another prod."

Helen planted her army near Moscow. I took a Servian flag and planted it
in the North Sea.

The game was very exciting while it lasted. I consider that I won it by
placing a French force in the environs of Vienna, an extraordinarily
good move. My newspaper would have been glad of the suggestion, I am
sure.

Gladys was handicapped by her height, but, taking everything into
consideration, I think she arranged some quite nice struggles in Sicily
and the Principality of Monaco.

Wilkinson came in after dinner. He collects the latest rumours and edits
them really well. Usually Helen and I find it wise to accept all his
statements without a murmur, but yesterday I disagreed with him.

"I'm sorry," I said gently, "but I don't think you've got things quite
right. This is more like the position of things at present," and I waved
my arm in the direction of our war map.

When at last he regained speech he made some remarks which might ha