he wild, indecorous
strains of "Kuk-kuk kuk-Katie," pealing out louder and ever louder as
the musician found confidence.

With his left hand supporting half his tired weight on the frame of
these bells, translated by some twentieth-century Tubal Cain to a music
so strangely different from the first they had uttered, Dick was
absorbed in his rendering of such bars of the vulgar melody as he could
remember, when he heard, far behind him, a slow, unimpassioned voice.

"What's all this hell's delight?" it asked.

A confused chorus of protesting explanation, interwoven with the yapping
cries and hysterical laughter of women, was all his answer.

In a fresh surge of enthusiasm "Katie" drowned it.

Then George Bruffin shouted--almost, the servants felt, as if he might
some day lose his temper.

"How did this freak minstrel get in?" he roared.

"Don't know, sir."

"Who was on duty here?"

"Charles, sir," chimed the chorus.

"Where is he?"

The music died in a last tinkling "Kuk-kuk." And then, as the minstrel
swung round to face his audience, the whole company heard the beating on
the great door.

"That," said Dick with a wave of his baton towards it, "is Charles."

While George stared heavily at the intruder's battle-worn visage, the
second footman flung open the door.

With a face livid and distorted by passion, Charles made a rush at his
enemy--to be brought up short by the sight of his master, wringing the
rascal's hand and patting his disgraceful shoulder.

"You silly goat," were all the words George could find for his laughter.

"I had to see you," said Dick. "And I do."

"Why couldn't you have me fetched decently?"

The chorus had vanished; they two were alone, with Charles, abashed.

"Your man wanted to put me out. I'm all in, George, so I just put him
out, and rang the bells for you." He sighed wearily, and added: "Anyhow,
it worked."

George turned a heavy face on the footman, but Dick spoke first.

"Charles is a damned good servant," he said. "I know what I look like.
He was in the right, so I had to evict."

"What's your trouble, Dick?" asked George, speaking, thought the
servant, as if this Dick were the first of all Dicks and all men.

"I've got a girl in a cab out there. She's worse beat than I am, George.
I want you and Liz to look after her till to-morrow."

Bruffin turned to his servant.

"Lady Elizabeth is in my study," he said. "Ask her to come to me here."
Then, to Dick, "Sit