tary Debates, and
all the Reports of Royal Commissions ever printed to narcotise the
conscience of a nation. These calf-bound works were not, in fact,
read; but the magnificent pretence of their usefulness was completed
by carpeted mahogany ladders which leaned here and there against the
shelfing, in accord with the theory that some studious member some day
might yearn and aspire to some upper shelf. On reading-stands and on
huge mahogany tables were disposed the countless newspapers of Great
Britain and Ireland, Europe and America, and also the files of such
newspapers. The apparatus of information was complete.

G.J. entered the splendid apartment like a discoverer. It was empty.
Not a member; not a servant! It waited, content to be inhabited,
equally content with its own solitude. This apartment had made an
adjunct even of the war; the function of the war in this apartment
was to render it more impressive, to increase, if possible, its
importance, for nowhere else could the war be studied so minutely day
by day.

A strange thing! G.J.'s sense of duty to himself had been quickened
by the defection of his valet. He felt that he had been failing to
comprehend in detail the cause and the evolution of the war, and that
even his general ideas as to it were inexcusably vague; and he had
determined to go every morning to the club, at whatever inconvenience,
for the especial purpose of studying and getting the true hang of the
supreme topic. As he sat down he was aware of the solemnity of the
great room, last fastness of the old strict decorum in the club. You
might not smoke in it until after 10 p.m.

Two other members came in immediately, one after the other. The first,
a little, very old and very natty man, began to read _The Times_ at
a stand. The second, old too, but of larger and firmer build, with a
long, clean-shaven upper lip, such as is only developed at the Bar,
on the Bench, and in provincial circles of Noncomformity, took an
easy-chair and another copy of _The Times_. A few moments elapsed, and
then the little old man glanced round, and, assuming surprise that
he had not noticed G.J. earlier, nodded to him with a very bright and
benevolent smile.

G.J. said:

"Well, Sir Francis, what's your opinion of this Ypres business. Seems
pretty complicated, doesn't it?"

Sir Francis answered in a tone whose mild and bland benevolence
matched his smile:

"I dare say the complications escape me. I see the affair qu