gh to convince Harrison
Smith that the young man was in a state of spiritual exaltation
bordering on ecstasy. The words of a song he sang sounded unnaturally
clear--like music from another planet.

"I'm one of the ruins that Cromwell knocked about a bit," he sang over
and over again as though the words contained relish enough to justify
any limit of repetition. Coming abreast of Harrison Smith he halted
abruptly and, rocking on his heels, broke into a cherubic smile.

"Goo' man," he said. "Les-see, it's ol' Petersh, ishn't it?"

"That's it," said Harrison Smith, "old Peters."

With startling suddenness the young man produced a latch key and thrust
it into Harrison Smith's palm.

"Ope' th' door, ol' top. Ope' door an' we'll have a quick lil' spot
together."

Here was unlooked for good fortune of which Harrison Smith lost no time
in availing himself. Lending a trifling support to his impromptu host
they entered the building and ascended in the electric lift to the
fourth floor. There was a brass plate on the front door which informed
the curious that the owner of the flat was called Royston.

"Just a quick one," said Smith as they entered a comfortable sitting
room adorned by photographs of lovely ladies. "I've had a trying day
and want to turn in."

"T'hell with that," said Royston. "Wha's matter with seein' in the
dawn?"

He produced a bottle of whiskey and two glasses--not without casualties
among their fellows--set them on a coffin stool and fell into a deep
arm chair.

"Help 'self and help me--'cos I'm ver' tired--ov' tired."

Harrison Smith embraced the opportunity of pouring out a perfect
deadener for his host into which he discreetly added a pinch of cigar
ash from a convenient stump (a concoction which in the absence of more
potent drugs will produce very gratifying results).

While he was so employed Mr. Royston descanted freely on the subject of
lovely women in the choice of which he declared himself to be an
epicure.

"See that one--pho' frame--piano. Tho'bred--perfect tho'bred--a
darling--love 'er--love 'em all."

"That's the talk," said Harrison Smith who was cursing the enforced
delay. "Drink her health, old man, and no heel taps."

Mr. Royston rose nobly to the occasion and swallowed the contents of
his glass at a single gulp.

"Blesh 'em!" he said. "Blesh 'em."

He seized the arm of his chair while the room spun round him in a dizzy
whirl.

"Blast you, Petersh," he crie