nal idea out of the German mind, but if ever they should understand
precisely and exactly how they have been duped for the glorification of
their masters--well, I should pity the junkers."

"Do your essays in journalism," the Bishop asked politely, "ever lead
you to touch upon Labour subjects, Julian?"

"Once or twice, in a very mild way," was the somewhat diffident reply.

"I had an interesting talk with Furley this morning," the Prime Minister
observed. "He tells me that they are thinking of making an appeal to
this man Paul Fiske to declare himself. They want a leader--they want
one very badly--and thank heavens they don't know where to look for
him!"

"But surely," Julian protested, "they don't expect necessarily to find
a leader of men in an anonymous contributor to the Reviews? Fiske, when
they have found him, may be a septuagenarian, or a man of academic
turn of mind, who never leaves his study. 'Paul Fiske' may even be the
pseudonym of a woman."

The Earl rose from his place.

"This afternoon," he announced, "I read the latest article of this Paul
Fiske. In my opinion he is an exceedingly mischievous person, without
the slightest comprehension of the forces which really count in
government."

The Bishop's eyes twinkled as he left the room with his hand on his
godson's arm.

"It would be interesting," he whispered, "to hear this man Fiske's
opinion of your father's last speech in the House of Lords upon land
interests!"

It was not until the close of a particularly unsatisfactory evening of
uninspiring bridge that Julian saw anything more of Catherine. She came
in from the picture gallery, breathless, followed by four or five of the
young soldiers, to whom she had been showing the steps of a new dance,
and, turning to Julian with an impulsiveness which surprised him, laid
her fingers imperatively upon his arm.

"Take me somewhere, please, where we can sit down and talk," she begged,
"and give me something to drink."

He led the way into the billiard room and rang the bell.

"You have been overtiring yourself," he said, looking down at her
curiously.

"Have I?" she answered. "I don't think so. I used to dance all through
the night in Paris and Rome, a few years ago. These young men are so
clumsy, though--and I think that I am nervous."

She lay back in her chair and half closed her eyes. A servant brought
in the Evian water for which she had asked and a whisky and soda for
Julian. She drank thir