eticence was not altogether fair to so constant a friend. He was there,
keen and eager as ever in all that concerned her, foremost with his
congratulations on the smiling fringe of the party assembled to do her
honour. It was a party of some brilliance in its way, though its way was
diverse; there was no steady glow. Fillimore said of the company that it
comprised all the talent, and Fillimore, Editor of the Indian Sportsman
and Racing Gazelle, was a judge. He said it to Hagge, of the Bank of
Hindostan, who could hardly have been an owner on three hundred rupees
a month without conspicuous ability disconnected with his ledgers; and
Hagge looked gratified. Though so promising, he was young. Lord Bobby
was there from Government House. Lord Bobby always accompanied the
talent, who were very kind to him. He was talking when Hilda arrived to
the Editor of the Indian Empire, who wanted to find out the date of her
Excellency's fancy dress party for children, in order that he might make
a leaderette of it; but Lord Bobby couldn't remember--had to promise
to drop him a line. Gianacchi was there, trying to treat Fillimore with
coldness because the Sportsman had discovered too many virtues in his
Musquito, exalted her indeed into a favourite for Saturday's hurdle
race, a notability for which Gianacchi felt himself too modest. "They
say," Fillimore had written, "that Musquito has been seen jumping by
moonlight"--the sort of thing to spoil any book. Fillimore was an acute
and weary-looking little man, with a peculiarly sweet smile and an air
of cynicism which gave to his lightest word a dangerous and suspicious
air. It was rumoured in official circles that he had narrowly escaped
beheading for pointing out too ironically the disabilities of a Viceroy
who insisted on reviewing the troops from a cushioned carriage with the
horses taken out. Fillimore seemed to think that if nature had not made
such a nobleman a horseman, the Queen-Empress should not have made him
Governor-General of India. Fillimore was full of prejudices. Gianacchi,
however, found it impossible to treat him coldly. His smoothness
of temperament stood in the way. Instead, he imparted the melodious
information that Musquito had pecked badly twice at Tollygunge that
morning, and smiled with pathetic philosophy. "Always let 'em use their
noses," said Fillimore, and there seemed to be satire in it. Fillimore
certainly had a flair, and when Beryl Stace presently demanded of