marks on the colour question that for impurity of English and strength
of diction have probably never been surpassed.

A second visitor that day came after dinner--a tall man in a frock-coat,
bearing in his hand a silk hat, which, after a careful survey of the
room, he hung on a knob of the bedpost.

"Mr. Scutts?" he inquired, bowing.

"That's me," said Mr. Scutts, in a feeble voice.

"I've called from the railway company," said the stranger. "We have
seen now all those who left their names and addresses on Monday
afternoon, and I am glad to say that nobody was really hurt. Nobody."

Mr. Scutts, in a faint voice, said he was glad to hear it.

"Been a wonder if they had," said the other, cheerfully. "Why, even the
paint wasn't knocked off the engine. The most serious damage appears to
be two top-hats crushed and an umbrella broken."

He leaned over the bed-rail and laughed joyously. Mr. Scutts, through
half-closed eyes, gazed at him in silent reproach.

"I don't say that one or two people didn't receive a little bit of a
shock to their nerves," said the visitor, thoughtfully. "One lady even
stayed in bed next day. However, I made it all right with them. The
company is very generous, and although of course there is no legal
obligation, they made several of them a present of a few pounds, so that
they could go away for a little change, or anything of that sort, to
quiet their nerves."

Mr. Scutts, who had been listening with closed eyes, opened them
languidly and said, "Oh."

"I gave one gentleman twen-ty pounds!" said the visitor, jingling some
coins in his trouser-pocket. "I never saw a man so pleased and grateful
in my life. When he signed the receipt for it--I always get them to
sign a receipt, so that the company can see that I haven't kept the
money for myself--he nearly wept with joy."

"I should think he would," said Mr. Scutts, slowly--"if he wasn't hurt."

"You're the last on my list," said the other, hastily. He produced a
slip of paper from his pocket-book and placed it on the small table,
with a fountain pen. Then, with a smile that was both tender and
playful, he plunged his hand in his pocket and poured a stream of gold
on the table.

"What do you say to thir-ty pounds?" he said, in a hushed voice.
"Thirty golden goblins?"

"What for?" inquired Mr. Scutts, with a notable lack of interest.

"For--well, to go away for a day or two," said the visitor. "I find you
in bed; it ma