give privacy to their conversation.

By tacit agreement, the General ordered the luncheon, speaking French to
the waiter throughout. Divested of his imposing great-coat, he was seen
to be a gentleman of meagre flesh as well as of small stature. He had
the Roman nose, narrow forehead, bushing brows, and sharply-cut mouth
and chin of a soldier grown old in the contemplation of portraits of the
Duke of Wellington. His face and neck were of a dull reddish tint, which
seemed at first sight uniformly distributed: one saw afterward that
it approached pallor at the veined temples, and ripened into purple in
minute patches on the cheeks and the tip of the pointed nose. Against
this flushed skin, the closely-cropped hair and small, neatly-waxed
moustache were very white indeed. It was a thin, lined, care-worn face,
withal, which in repose, and particularly in profile, produced an effect
of dignified and philosophical melancholy. The General's over-prominent
light blue eyes upon occasion marred this effect, however, by glances
of a bold, harsh character, which seemed to disclose unpleasant depths
below the correct surface. His manner with the waiters was abrupt and
sharp, but undoubtedly they served him very well--much better, in truth,
than Thorpe had ever seen them serve anybody before.

Thorpe observed his guest a good deal during the repast, and formed
numerous conclusions about him. He ate with palpable relish of every
dish, and he emptied his glass as promptly as his host could fill
it. There was hardly a word of explanation as to the purpose of their
meeting, until the coffee was brought, and they pushed back their
chairs, crossed their legs, and lighted cigars.

"I was lucky to catch you with my wire, at such short notice," Thorpe
said then. "I sent two, you know--to your chambers and your club. Which
of them found you?"

"Chambers," said the General. "I rarely dress till luncheon time. I read
in bed. There's really nothing else to do. Idleness is the curse of my
life."

"I've been wondering if you'd like a little occupation--of a well-paid
sort," said Thorpe slowly. He realized that it was high time to invent
some pretext for his hurried summons of the General.

"My dear sir," responded the other, "I should like anything that had
money in it. And I should very much like occupation, too--if it were, of
course, something that was--was suitable to me."

"Yes," said Thorpe, meditatively. "I've something in my mind--no