the heart of a lion, another man may
be born with the mind of a mule. Dennis's master was one of the other
men.

"Very well put," Sir Giles answered indulgently. "Time will show, if
such an entirely unimportant person as my nephew Arthur is likely to be
assassinated. That allusion to one of the members of my family is a
mere equivocation, designed to throw me off my guard. Rank, money,
social influence, unswerving principles, mark ME out as a public
character. Go to the police-office, and let the best man who happens to
be off duty come here directly."

Good Dennis Howmore approached the door very unwillingly. It was
opened, from the outer side, before he had reached that end of the
room. One of the bank porters announced a visitor.

"Miss Henley wishes to know, sir, if you can see her."

Sir Giles looked agreeably surprised. He rose with alacrity to receive
the lady.

III

WHEN Iris Henley dies there will, in all probability, be friends left
who remember her and talk of her--and there may be strangers present at
the time (women for the most part), whose curiosity will put questions
relating to her personal appearance. No replies will reward them with
trustworthy information. Miss Henley's chief claim to admiration lay in
a remarkable mobility of expression, which reflected every change of
feeling peculiar to the nature of a sweet and sensitive woman. For this
reason, probably, no descriptions of her will agree with each other. No
existing likenesses will represent her. The one portrait that was
painted of Iris is only recognisable by partial friends of the artist.
In and out of London, photographic likenesses were taken of her. They
have the honour of resembling the portraits of Shakespeare in this
respect--compared with one another, it is not possible to discover that
they present the same person. As for the evidence offered by the loving
memory of her friends, it is sure to be contradictory in the last
degree. She had a charming face, a commonplace face, an intelligent
face--a poor complexion, a delicate complexion, no complexion at
all--eyes that were expressive of a hot temper, of a bright intellect,
of a firm character, of an affectionate disposition, of a truthful
nature, of hysterical sensibility, of inveterate obstinacy--a figure
too short; no, just the right height; no, neither one thing nor the
other; elegant, if you like--dress shabby: oh, surely not; dress quiet
and simple; no, something more than