edful to smuggle "blockade licker."

Upon one pivotal point hinged the success of the entire conspiracy.

Larry Masters must persuade McCalloway to visit him for a full day
before the date set, and must go back with him at the proper time. The
transformation of a log house into a banquet hall demands time and
non-interference. But there was no default in Masters's co-operation,
and on the appointed evening McCalloway and Larry rode up to the door of
the house and dismounted. Then the soldier halted by his fence-line and
spoke in a puzzled tone:

"Strange--very strange--that there should be lights burning inside. I've
been away forty-eight hours and more. I dare say Aunt Judy has happened
in. She has a key to the place."

Larry Masters hazarded no explanatory suggestion. The vacuous
expression upon his countenance was, perhaps, a shade overdone, but he
followed his host across the small yard to his door.

On the threshold McCalloway halted again in a paralysed bewilderment.
Perhaps he doubted his own sanity for a moment, because of what he saw
within.

The centre of the room was filled with a table, not rough, as was his
own, but snowy with damask, and asparkle with glass and silver, under
the softened light of many candles. So the householder stood bewildered,
pressing a hand against his forehead, and as he did so several gentlemen
rose from chairs before his own blazing hearth. When they turned to
greet him, he noticed, with bewilderment, that they were all in evening
dress.

Basil Prince came smilingly around the table with an outstretched hand,
and an enlightening voice. "Since I am the original conspirator, sir, I
think I ought to explain. We are a few Mahomets who have come to the
mountain. Our designs upon you embrace nothing more hostile than a
dinner party."

For a moment Victor McCalloway, for years now a recluse with itching
memories of a life that had been athrob with action and vivid with
colour, stood seeking to command his voice. His throat worked
spasmodically, and into the eyes that had on occasion been flint-hard
with sternness came a mist that he could not deny. He sought to welcome
them--and failed. Rarely had he been so profoundly touched, and all he
succeeded in putting into words, and that in an unnatural voice, was:
"Gentlemen--you must pardon me--if I fail to receive you properly--I
have no evening clothes."

But their laughter broke the tension, and while he shook hands around,
think