s afternoon," said Clovis reflectively;
"I dare say you won't find it difficult to get him to back himself at
billiards. He plays a pretty useful game, but he's not quite as good as
he fancies he is."

"I know one member of the party who can walk round him," said Rex softly,
an alert look coming into his eyes; "that cadaverous-looking Major who
arrived last night. I've seen him play at St. Moritz. If I could get
Strinnit to lay odds on himself against the Major the money would be safe
in my pocket. This looks like the good thing I've been watching and
praying for."

"Don't be rash," counselled Clovis, "Strinnit may play up to his self-
imagined form once in a blue moon."

"I intend to be rash," said Rex quietly, and the look on his face
corroborated his words.

"Are you all going to flock to the billiard-room?" asked Teresa
Thundleford, after dinner, with an air of some disapproval and a good
deal of annoyance. "I can't see what particular amusement you find in
watching two men prodding little ivory balls about on a table."

"Oh, well," said her hostess, "it's a way of passing the time, you know."

"A very poor way, to my mind," said Mrs. Thundleford; "now I was going to
have shown all of you the photographs I took in Venice last summer."

"You showed them to us last night," said Mrs. Cuvering hastily.

"Those were the ones I took in Florence. These are quite a different
lot."

"Oh, well, some time to-morrow we can look at them. You can leave them
down in the drawing-room, and then every one can have a look."

"I should prefer to show them when you are all gathered together, as I
have quite a lot of explanatory remarks to make, about Venetian art and
architecture, on the same lines as my remarks last night on the
Florentine galleries. Also, there are some verses of mine that I should
like to read you, on the rebuilding of the Campanile. But, of course, if
you all prefer to watch Major Latton and Mr. Strinnit knocking balls
about on a table--"

"They are both supposed to be first-rate players," said the hostess.

"I have yet to learn that my verses and my art _causerie_ are of second-
rate quality," said Mrs. Thundleford with acerbity. "However, as you all
seem bent on watching a silly game, there's no more to be said. I shall
go upstairs and finish some writing. Later on, perhaps, I will come down
and join you."

To one, at least, of the onlookers the game was anything but silly. It
was abso