and more than that, he sent for me. I thought,
perhaps, he wanted to shoot me; but, bless you, no! He liked the thing
so much that he commissioned me to write a 'long, complete,' twenty
thousand words; so I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone, run down
into the country for a holiday and business combined. But, look here,
before I say another word, you've got to tell me what you're doing
here."

Celia told him as briefly as she could.

"Oh, but that's splendid!" he cried, seizing her hand and shaking it,
just as if she were another boy. "I say, you _are_ a swell; and amongst
such swells; marquesses and lords and ladies of high degree! But, I say,
I am glad. How happy you must be!"

"I am," said Celia. "But go on, tell me about your novel; what kind of a
novel is it to be?"

"Do you remember my telling you, that afternoon at the A.B.C. shop, how,
if ever I got a chance, I meant to go in for character, psychology? Good
word, psychology! Well, I've got my chance, and I'm going for it
bald-headed. Since I saw you, I have been studying Lavater; the
physiognomy man, you know--wonderful book!--and I've been fitting
imaginary histories to everybody, man or woman, I've met."

"I used to do that," said Celia, dreamily; and back came Brown's
Buildings.

"Yes? Of course, one may make an awfully bad shot sometimes; but I'm
inclined to think that, as a rule, one is pretty accurate. I mean, that
you can judge the character of a man from his face--not so often that of
a woman, because she's more difficult, she knows how to mask her
feelings----"

"Thank you," interjected Celia.

"Oh, you know what I mean! She's been the slave of the man for
centuries, and she's been obliged to deceive him."

"Thank you very, _very_ much!"

"Oh, but she's getting past that, now; she's coming into her own,
whatever that may prove to be; and presently she'll go about with an
open countenance, and it may be easier for me to study her."

"It's to be a detective story, I suppose?" said Celia.

"Right the first go off!" he assented, admiringly. "Yes; but something
out of the ordinary, I hope. I've been through a course of Gaborieau,
and the rest of the detective-story men, and I want to come out with
something fresh. Of course, what I need is real experience. I suppose I
ought to have served my term as a criminal reporter; do murders and
forgeries, and all that kind of thing. But, then, I haven't. I must
trust to luck and chance. You don'