hough he did not pursue the blatant policy
of the Vicar of Bray, yet it is fact which may be confirmed from
the reader's own knowledge, that he served in four different
administrations, drawing the pay and emoluments of his office from each,
though the fundamental policies of those four governments were distinct.

Lady Bartholomew, the wife of this adaptable Minister, had recently
departed for San Remo. The newspapers announced the fact and spoke
vaguely of a breakdown which prevented the lady from fulfilling her
social engagements.

T. X., ever a Doubting Thomas, could trace no visit of nerve specialist,
nor yet of the family practitioner, to the official residence in Downing
Street, and therefore he drew conclusions. In his own "Who's Who" T.
X. noted the hobbies of his victims which, by the way, did not always
coincide with the innocent occupations set against their names in the
more pretentious volume. Their follies and their weaknesses found a
place and were recorded at a length (as it might seem to the uninformed
observer) beyond the limit which charity allowed.

Lady Mary Bartholomew's name appeared not once, but many times, in the
erratic records which T. X. kept. There was a plain matter-of-fact and
wholly unobjectionable statement that she was born in 1874, that she was
the seventh daughter of the Earl of Balmorey, that she had one daughter
who rejoiced in the somewhat unpromising name of Belinda Mary, and such
further information as a man might get without going to a great deal of
trouble.

T. X., refreshing his memory from the little red book, wondered what
unexpected tragedy had sent Lady Bartholomew out of London in the middle
of the season. The information was that the lady was fairly well off at
this moment, and this fact made matters all the more puzzling and
almost induced him to believe that, after all, the story was true, and a
nervous breakdown really was the cause of her sudden departure. He sent
for Mansus.

"You saw Lady Bartholomew off at Charing Cross, I suppose?"

Mansus nodded.

"She went alone?"

"She took her maid, but otherwise she was alone. I thought she looked
ill."

"She has been looking ill for months past," said T. X., without any
visible expression of sympathy.

"Did she take Belinda Mary?"

Mansus was puzzled. "Belinda Mary?" he repeated slowly. "Oh, you mean
the daughter. No, she's at a school somewhere in France."

T. X. whistled a snatch of a popular song, closed