cco jar?"

"The very identical. Little bit of all right, that--eh, what?"

"Looked like it, at all events," said Cleek, selecting a cigar and
lighting up. "What a lucky beggar you are, dear chap--all the good
things seem to go your way. And so"--puff! puff!--"Pink Gauze gave you
the bracelet, eh? When? Last night? Or didn't you see her then?"

"Oh, I saw her last night, right enough; in fact, I've seen her pretty
nearly every night since she came over from Paris, but she didn't give
me the bracelet to take care of _then_. _That_ was on the night
before--over at her little place, you know."

"No, I'm blest if I do. How should I? Never saw or heard of her, dear
boy, till I had the misfortune to break that tobacco jar and tumble out
her photo. So her name's Mignon de Varville, is it? And she's got a
little place of her own, eh? Where? In this neighbourhood?"

"Lord, no! Beyond Wimbledon. Rippin' little place, too. Clinkin' little
house standing in its own grounds and fitted up to the nines. Took it
furnished, and gives the rippin'est suppers and the jolliest dances
going. Hot stuff, I give you _my_ word. Brought over her entire troupe
with her. Rehearsing now, and with all their evenings to themselves.
Going to open in London in a fortnight's time, she says, and no English
hotels for _her_ and her little lot. There are ten of 'em: five spiffin'
pretty girls, and five of the most awful-lookin' Johnnies you ever saw
in evening clothes since the hour you were christened. Coarse as dog's
hair, every mother's son of 'em, but clinkin' good chaps, for all that.
Plenty of champagne, and jolly good champagne it is, too, dear boy; and
after supper there's always a dance, two of the chaps and two of the
girls sitting out and furnishing the music. And Lord, you don't know
what a dance is, Barch, till you've had one with Mignon de Varville, my
boy!"

Cleek did not dispute the assertion. He had had many with the lady in
those old days that lay forever behind; and it needed no man's word to
tell him how tirelessly, how joyously, and with what mad _abandon_
Margot could dance when the fever of music and wine got into her blood.

"My hat! I'll be choking you from sheer jealousy, presently, you lucky
beggar!" he said enviously. "All the plums seem to fall over on _your_
side of the wall, dash you! and here am I sitting solitary and alone in
a howling wilderness with not even _one_. I say, how the dickens did you
ever come across this