ald laughed heartily.

"You little cynic!" he cried. "You mean to insinuate that if you tempted
Simon, he'd be as bad a hat as his brother?"

"Oh, no!" cried Cicely. "I meant----"

"Tempt him and see!" chuckled the baronet. "And we'll have a little bet
on the result!" He was glancing at the paper as he laughed, and now he
suddenly stopped laughing and exclaimed, "Hullo! Here's a much more
serious loss for our friend. Would you like to earn L1, Cicely?"

"Very much," said she.

"Well then if you search the road very carefully between Mr. Simon
Rattar's residence and his office you may find his signet ring and
obtain the advertised, and I may say princely, reward of one pound."

"Only a pound!" exclaimed Lady Cromarty, "for that handsome old ring of
his?"

"If he had offered a penny more, I should have taken my business out of
his hands!" laughed Sir Reginald. "It would have meant that Silent Simon
wasn't himself any longer. A pound is exactly his figure; a respectable
sum, but not extravagant."

"What day did he lose it?" asked Cicely.

"The advertisement doesn't say."

"He wasn't wearing it----" Cicely pulled herself up sharply.

"When?" asked Lady Cromarty.

"Where can I have seen him last?" wondered Cicely with an innocent air.

"Not for two or three weeks certainly," said Lady Cromarty decisively.
"And he can't have lost it then if this advertisement is only just put
in."

"No, of course not," Cicely agreed.

"Well," said Sir Reginald, "he'll miss his ring more than his brother!
And remember, Cicely, you get a pound for finding the ring, and you win
a pair of gloves if you can tempt Simon to stray from the paths of
honesty and virtue! By Jingo, I'll give you the gloves if you can even
make him tell a good sporting lie!"

When the good baronet was in this humour no man could excel him in
geniality, and, to do him justice, a kindly temper and hearty spirits
were the rule with him six days out of seven. On the other hand, he was
easily ruffled and his tempers were hot while they lasted. Upon the very
next morning there arose on the horizon a little cloud, a cloud that
seemed at the moment the merest fleck of vapour, which upset him, his
family thought, quite unduly.

It took the form of a business letter from Mr. Simon Rattar, a letter
on the surface perfectly innocuous and formally polite. Yet Sir Reginald
seemed considerably disturbed.

"Damn the man!" he exclaimed as he cast it on the breakfast