nd sent him on in front with my stuff, and at
the very last moment I've been absolutely prevented from sailing! You
see how awkward it is! I haven't a thing here."

"It is indeed, sir. And I suppose _he's_ gone on, sir?"

"Of course he has! He wouldn't find out till after she sailed that I
wasn't on board. You know the crush and confusion there is on those
big liners just before they start." Edward Henry had once assisted,
under very dramatic circumstances, at the departure of a Transatlantic
liner from Liverpool.

"Just so, sir!"

"I've neither servant nor clothes!" He considered that so far he was
doing admirably. Indeed, the tale could not have been bettered, he
thought. His hope was that the fellow would not have the idea of
consulting the shipping intelligence in order to confirm the departure
of the _Minnetonka_ from Tilbury that day. Possibly the _Minnetonka_
never had sailed and never would sail from Tilbury. Possibly she had
been sold years ago. He had selected the first ship's name that came
into his head. What did it matter?

"My man," he added to clinch--the proper word "man" had only just
occurred to him--"my man can't be back again under three weeks at the
soonest."

The valet made one half-eager step towards him.

"If you're wanting a temporary valet, sir, my son's out of a place for
the moment--through no fault of his own. He's a very good valet, sir,
and soon learns a gentleman's ways."

"Yes," said Edward Henry, judiciously. "But could he come at once?
That's the point." And he looked at his watch, as if to imply that
another hour without a valet would be more than human nature could
stand.

"I could have him round here in less than an hour, sir," said
the hotel-valet, comprehending the gesture. "He's at Norwich
Mews--Berkeley Square way, sir."

Edward Henry hesitated.

"Very well, then!" he said commandingly. "Send for him. Let me see
him."

He thought:

"Dash it! I'm at Wilkins's--I'll be _at_ Wilkins's!"

"Certainly, sir! Thank you very much, sir."

The hotel-valet was retiring when Edward Henry called him back.

"Stop a moment. I'm just going out. Help me on with my overcoat, will
you?"

The man jumped.

"And you might get me a tooth-brush," Edward Henry airily suggested.
"And I've a letter for the post."

As he walked down Devonshire Square in the dark he hummed a tune;
certain sign that he was self-conscious, uneasy, and yet not unhappy.
At a small but expensive hosier