tion, and by and by I became aware
that he was not in the room. Suddenly the thought struck me that his
wife must be dead, and I----. It was the worst-cooked and the
worst-served dinner I ever had in the club.

I tried the smoking-room. Usually the talk there is entertaining; but
on that occasion it was so frivolous that I did not remain five
minutes. In the card-room a member told me, excitedly, that a policeman
had spoken rudely to him; and my strange comment was:

"After all, it is a small matter."

In the library, where I had not been for years, I found two members
asleep, and, to my surprise, William on a ladder dusting books.

"You have not heard, sir?" he said in answer to my raised eyebrows.
Descending the ladder he whispered, tragically:

"It was last evening, sir. I--I lost my head and I--swore at a member."

I stepped back from William, and glanced apprehensively at the two
members. They still slept.

"I hardly knew," William went on, "what I was doing all day yesterday,
for I had left my wife so weakly that----"

I stamped my foot.

"I beg your pardon for speaking of her," he had the grace to say, "but
I couldn't help slipping to the window often yesterday to look for
Jenny, and when she did come and I saw she was crying, it--it a sort of
confused me, and I didn't know right, sir, what I was doing. I hit
against a member, Mr. Myddleton Finch, and he--he jumped and swore at
me. Well, sir, I had just touched him after all, and I was so
miserable, it a kind of stung me to be treated like--like that, and me
a man as well as him, and I lost my senses, and--and I swore back."

William's shamed head sank on his chest, but I even let pass his
insolence in likening himself to a member of the club, so afraid was I
of the sleepers waking and detecting me in talk with a waiter.

"For the love of God," William cried, with coarse emotion, "don't let
them dismiss me!"

"Speak lower!" I said. "Who sent you here?"

"I was turned out of the dining-room at once, and told to attend to the
library until they had decided what to do with me. Oh, sir, I'll lose
my place!"

He was blubbering, as if a change of waiters was a matter of
importance.

"This is very bad, William," I said. "I fear I can do nothing for you."

"Have mercy on a distracted man!" he entreated. "I'll go on my knees to
Mr. Myddleton Finch."

How could I but despise a fellow who would be thus abject for a pound a
week?

"I dare not tell her