m made a regular attack on me,
and if it hadn't been that I was pretty active with my sword-stick,
they'd have torn me in bits. Let me advise you never to go out after
nightfall without one. Is that one in your hand?"

"No, it is merely a cane."

"Well, exchange with me. There's no saying when you may want it."

Tufnell took a light sword-stick which lay on the table and handed it to
Miles, who accepted it laughingly, and without the slightest belief that
he should ever have occasion to use it.

In chatting about the plans of the building and the prospects of
success, our hero became at last so deeply interested--partly, no doubt,
because of his friend's enthusiasm--that he forgot the flight of time,
and the evening was advancing before he rose to leave.

"Now, Tufnell," he said suddenly, "I must be off, I have another call of
importance to make."

"What! won't you stop and have a cup of coffee with me?"

"Impossible. My business is urgent. I want to see friends whom I may
not have the chance of seeing again. Good-night."

"Good-night, then, and have a care of the dogs, specially after
nightfall."

On returning to the hotel shortly after sunset, Miles came to the
conclusion that his love must certainly be "true," for its course was
not running "smooth." His friends had not yet returned. Mrs Drew had
indeed come back, alone in a cab, but she had "von headik an' vas go to
the bed."

Waiting about in front of the hotel for an hoar or two proved to be too
much for our hero's nerves; he therefore made up his mind to exhaust his
nervous system by means of a smart walk. Soon he found himself in a
lonely place, half-way between the Grand Square and the Ramleh Gate,
with a deliciously cool breeze playing on his brow, and a full moon
sailing overhead.

No one was moving about on the road along which he walked. He had it
all to himself at first, and the evening would have been quiet as well
as beautiful but for the yelping dogs which had, by that time, come out
of their day-dens to search and fight for food and hold their nightly
revels.

All round him were the heaps of rubbish caused by bombardment, and the
ruined houses which war had rendered tenantless, though here and there
the uprising of new buildings proved that the indomitable energy of man
was not to be quelled by war or anything else. A flickering oil-lamp
placed here and there at intervals threw a sickly yellow light into dark
recesses which t