rn here on peril of your
life at ten o'clock. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Sir Roderick," sobbed Farrell. "Angels must have sent
you, Sir Roderick. . . . I have unfortunately mislaid my glasses and
something seems to be obscuring the sight of my left eye. But I
recognised your kindly voice, Sir Roderick. The events of the past
few hours are something of a blank to me at present: but may I take
the liberty of wringing my deliverer by the hand?"

"Certainly not," said I. "Sit up and attend. Have you a wife?
Sit up, I say. Will Mrs. Farrell by any chance be sitting up?"

"I thank God," answered Mr. Farrell fervently, "I am a widower.
It is the one bright spot. Could my poor Maria look down from where
she is, and see me at this moment--"

"It _is_ a slice of luck," I agreed. "Well, you're in the devil of a
mess, and you've goosed yourself besides losing a promising seat for
the party. What on earth--but we'll talk of that to-morrow.
You must turn up, please, and see it out. I don't know what defence,
if any, you can put up: but by to-morrow you'll have a damnatory eye
that will spoil the most ingenious. My advice is, don't make any.
Cut losses, and face the music. This is a queer country; but the
Press, which has been ragging you for weeks, will deal tenderly with
you as a drunk and incapable."

"But the scandal, Sir Roderick!" he moaned.

"There won't be any," said I. "You've lost the seat: that's all.
. . . Now stay quiet while I sign a paper or two."

Jimmy (redeemed) and I together packed Mr. Farrell into his taxi.
Mr. Samuel Hicks, driver and expert, threw an eye over him as we
helped him in and wrapped him in rugs. "There's going to be no
trouble with this fare," said Mr. Hicks, as he pocketed his
payment-in-advance. "Nigh upon two o'clock in the morning and no
more trouble than a lamb in cold storage."

NIGHT THE FIFTH.

ADVENTURE OF THE "CATALAFINA": MR. JAMES COLLINGWOOD'S NARRATIVE.

"Well now," I asked, as my taxi bore us homeward, "what have you to
say about all this?"

"I say," answered Jimmy with sententiousness, after a pause, "that
you should never take three glasses of champagne on an empty
stomach."

"I don't," said I.

"Nor do I," said Jimmy. "I took five, on Farrell's three . . .
eight glasses to the bottle. It was a Christian act, because I saw
that was he exceeding. But he insisted on ordering two bottles: so
it was all thrown away."

"What was throw