d Harry. "Oh yes, by the way, I did though: twice, and got
caught out both times. But I thought I should find my--my wife here?" he
added, with a kind of proud confusion.

"What? are you married?" cried Somerset.

"Oh yes," said Harry, "quite a long time: a month at least."

"Money?" asked Challoner.

"That's the worst of it," Desborough admitted. "We are deadly hard up.
But the Pri--Mr. Godall is going to do something for us. That is what
brings us here."

"Who was Mrs. Desborough?" said Challoner, in the tone of a man of
society.

"She was a Miss Luxmore," returned Harry. "You fellows will be sure to
like her, for she is much cleverer than I. She tells wonderful stories,
too; better than a book."

And just then the door opened, and Mrs. Desborough entered. Somerset
cried out aloud to recognise the young lady of the Superfluous Mansion,
and Challoner fell back a step and dropped his cigar as he beheld the
sorceress of Chelsea.

"What!" cried Harry, "do you both know my wife?"

"I believe I have seen her," said Somerset, a little wildly.

"I think I have met the gentleman," said Mrs. Desborough sweetly; "but I
cannot imagine where it was."

"Oh no," cried Somerset fervently; "I have no notion--I cannot
conceive--where it could have been. Indeed," he continued, growing in
emphasis, "I think it highly probable that it's a mistake."

"And you, Challoner?" asked Harry, "you seemed to recognise her, too."

"These are both friends of yours, Harry?" said the lady. "Delighted, I
am sure. I do not remember to have met Mr. Challoner."

Challoner was very red in the face, perhaps from having groped after his
cigar. "I do not remember to have had the pleasure," he responded
huskily.

"Well, and Mr. Godall?" asked Mrs. Desborough.

"Are you the lady that has an appointment with old ..." began Somerset,
and paused, blushing. "Because if so," he resumed, "I was to announce
you at once."

And the shopman raised a curtain, opened a door, and passed into a small
pavilion which had been added to the back of the house. On the roof, the
rain resounded musically. The walls were lined with maps and prints and
a few works of reference. Upon a table was a large-scale map of Egypt
and the Soudan, and another of Tonkin, on which, by the aid of coloured
pins, the progress of the different wars was being followed day by day.
A light, refreshing odour of the most delicate tobacco hung upon the
air; and a fire, not of foul coal,