t matters? Success pays for
everything. My only trouble now is how I'm to get back to London."

Lady Laura shook hands with Phineas, and then as he was passing on,
followed him for a step and whispered a word to him. "Mr. Finn," she
said, "if you are not going yet, come back to me presently. I have
something to say to you. I shall not be far from the river, and shall
stay here for about an hour."

Phineas said that he would, and then went on, not knowing exactly
where he was going. He had one desire,--to find Violet Effingham, but
when he should find her he could not carry her off, and sit with her
beneath a haycock.

CHAPTER LXIV

The Horns

While looking for Violet Effingham, Phineas encountered Madame
Goesler, among a crowd of people who were watching the adventurous
embarkation of certain daring spirits in a pleasure-boat. There were
watermen there in the Duke's livery, ready to take such spirits down
to Richmond or up to Teddington lock, and many daring spirits did
take such trips,--to the great peril of muslins, ribbons, and starch,
to the peril also of ornamental summer white garments, so that when
the thing was over, the boats were voted to have been a bore.

"Are you going to venture?" said Phineas to the lady.

"I should like it of all things if I were not afraid for my clothes.
Will you come?"

"I was never good upon the water. I should be sea-sick to a
certainty. They are going down beneath the bridge too, and we should
be splashed by the steamers. I don't think my courage is high
enough." Thus Phineas excused himself, being still intent on
prosecuting his search for Violet.

"Then neither will I," said Madame Goesler. "One dash from a peccant
oar would destroy the whole symmetry of my dress. Look. That green
young lady has already been sprinkled."

"But the blue young gentleman has been sprinkled also," said Phineas,
"and they will be happy in a joint baptism." Then they strolled along
the river path together, and were soon alone. "You will be leaving
town soon, Madame Goesler?"

"Almost immediately."

"And where do you go?"

"Oh,--to Vienna. I am there for a couple of months every year,
minding my business. I wonder whether you would know me, if you saw
me;--sometimes sitting on a stool in a counting-house, sometimes
going about among old houses, settling what must be done to save them
from tumbling down. I dress so differently at such times, and talk so
differently, and look so