d now! It's the
rottenest luck."

"What was it worth?" our hostess asked.

"Not very much. Thirty pounds perhaps. But that isn't it. The money is
nothing--it's the sentimental associations that make the loss so serious."

"Well," said a practical man, "you needn't despair. Ring up Scotland Yard
and ask them the best thing to do."

"Did you take the cabman's number?" some one asked.

"Of course he didn't," our hostess replied. "Who ever does a thing like
that?"

"As a matter of fact," said Sir Charles, "I sometimes do. But this time, of
course, I didn't." He groaned. "No, it's gone for ever. The cabman will see
it's gold and sell it. I wouldn't trust your modern taxi-chauffeur with
anything."

"If you would feel any happier," said our hostess, "do telephone now."

"No," said Sir Charles, "no. It's no use. A coin like that would never be
surrendered. It's too interesting; even a cabman would realise that.
Umbrellas they'll take back, of course--umbrellas and bags, but not a
goldmohur. He'll either keep it to show his pals in public-houses or have
it fixed up as a brooch for his wife."

As Sir Charles finished speaking and once more turned gloomily to his
neglected plate the knocker was heard again to knock, and then one of the
maids approached her mistress and spoke to her in low tones.

Our hostess brightened. "Now, Sir Charles," she said, "perhaps you'll
revise your opinion of our taxi-drivers. Tell Sir Charles what it is," she
said to the maid.

"If you please," the maid began, "there's a cabman at the door. He says he
brought a gentleman here and----" Here she faltered.

"Go on, Robins," said her mistress.

"If you please, I don't like to," said the girl. "It's so--so----"

"I should like to hear it exactly," said Sir Charles.

"Well," said the maid with a burst of courage, "he says there's a gentleman
here who--who bilked him--who passed a piece of bad money on him in the
dark. Here it is," and she handed Sir Charles the goldmohur. "And he says
if he doesn't get an honest shilling in exchange for it he'll have the law
on him."

E.V.L.

* * * * *

THE KNELL OF THE NAVY.

Spooner is a remarkable fellow. His duties on board this ship are to fly
once a week off the deck, revolve twice round the masts and sink thankfully
down into the water, where we haul him out by the breeches and hang his
machine up to dry on the fo'c's'le. By performing these duties four times a