oward the beach. They were in bathing; half
a dozen young men and women. The diving-raft bobbed up and down. Only
yesterday she had tried to teach him how to swim. After all, he was
only a bally haberdasher's clerk; he would never be anything more than
that.

More guests for dinner, which Thomas also had in his room, despite
Killigrew's protests. The villa would be filled for a whole week, and
a merry dance he would have to avoid the guests. At nine, just as he
was on the point of going to bed, the second man knocked for admittance.

"Miss Killigrew wishes you to come aboard the visiting yacht at ten,
sir."

"Offer Miss Killigrew my excuses. I am very tired."

"Miss Killigrew was decided, sir. Her father's orders. He wishes you
to meet his resident partner in Rio Janeiro. Mr. Killigrew and Mr.
Savage will be in the smoke-room forward, sir."

"Very well. Tell Miss Killigrew that I shall come aboard."

"Thank you, sir. The motor-boat will be at the jetty at nine-thirty,
sir." The servants about the Killigrew home understood Thomas'
position. They had known young honorables who had served as private
secretaries.

A formal command. There was no way of avoiding it. Resignedly Thomas
got into his evening clothes. They might smile at his pumps, the hang
of his coat, but there would be no question over the correctness of his
collar and cravat. He was very bitter against the world, and more
especially against Thomas Webb, late of Hodman, Pelt and Company,
"haberdashers to H. H. the Duke of" and so forth and so on.

All the way down to the motor-boat his new pumps sang "Fool-fool!
Rotter-rotter!" He climbed the yacht's ladder and ran into Kitty and
her guests, exactly as she had arranged he should.

"Mr. Webb," she said; and immediately began introducing him, leaving
Lord Henry Monckton until the last. A cluster of lights made the spot
as bright as day.

Thomas bowed politely and Lord Monckton smiled amiably.

"Mr. Killigrew is in the smoking-room?" Thomas inquired.

"Yes."

Thomas bowed again, indirectly toward the guests and walked away. Lord
Monckton commented on the beauty of the night.

And Kitty caught the gasp between her teeth, lest it should be heard.
Fog!

CHAPTER XIX

"Rather hot for this time of day," volunteered Lord Monckton, sliding
into the Morris chair at the side of Thomas' desk and dangling his legs
over the arm.

"Yes, it is," agreed Thomas, folding a sheet of