ht, now by that; and M. Gaston Max made no
perceptible attempt to steer it in any given direction. But presently:

"I was reading a very entertaining article," said Exel, turning his
monocle upon the physician, "in the Planet to-day, from the pen of Miss
Cumberly; Ah! dealing with Olaf van Noord."

Sir Brian Malpas suddenly became keenly interested.

"You mean in reference to his new picture, 'Our Lady of the Poppies'?"
he said.

"Yes," replied Exel, "but I was unaware that you knew van Noord?"

"I do not know him," said Sir Brian, "I should very much like to meet
him. But directly the picture is on view to the public I shall certainly
subscribe my half-crown."

"My own idea," drawled Exel, "was that Miss Cumberly's article probably
was more interesting than the picture or the painter. Her description
of the canvas was certainly most vivid; and I, myself, for a moment,
experienced an inclination to see the thing. I feel sure, however, that
I should be disappointed."

"I think you are wrong," interposed Cumberly. "Helen is enthusiastic
about the picture, and even Miss Ryland, whom you have met and who is a
somewhat severe critic, admits that it is out of the ordinary."

Max, who covertly had been watching the face of Sir Brian Malpas, said
at this point:

"I would not miss it for anything, after reading Miss Cumberly's account
of it. When are you thinking of going to see it, Sir Brian? I might
arrange to join you."

"Directly the exhibition is opened," replied the baronet, lapsing again
into his dreamy manner. "Ring me up when you are going, and I will join
you."

"But you might be otherwise engaged?"

"I never permit business," said Sir Brian, "to interfere with pleasure."

The words sounded absurd, but, singularly, the statement was true. Sir
Brian had won his political position by sheer brilliancy. He was utterly
unreliable and totally indifferent to that code of social obligations
which ordinarily binds his class. He held his place by force of
intellect, and it was said of him that had he possessed the faintest
conception of his duties toward his fellow men, nothing could have
prevented him from becoming Prime Minister. He was a puzzle to all who
knew him. Following a most brilliant speech in the House, which would
win admiration and applause from end to end of the Empire, he would,
perhaps on the following day, exhibit something very like stupidity
in debate. He would rise to address the House and ta