ke; and now he's come over here to reopen negotiations."

I was all for waiting prudently till the Count made the first move.
"Don't let him see your eagerness," I said. But Amelia's ardour
could not now be restrained. She insisted that Charles should
call on the Graf as a mere return of his politeness in the Tyrol.

He was as charming as ever. He talked to us with delight about the
quaintness of London. He would be ravished to dine next evening with
Sir Charles. He desired his respectful salutations meanwhile to
Miladi Vandrift and Madame Ventvorth.

He dined with us, almost en famille. Amelia's cook did wonders. In
the billiard-room, about midnight, Charles reopened the subject.
The Count was really touched. It pleased him that still, amid the
distractions of the City of Five Million Souls, we should remember
with affection his beloved Lebenstein.

"Come to my lawyers," he said, "to-morrow, and I will talk it all
over with you."

We went--a most respectable firm in Southampton Row; old family
solicitors. They had done business for years for the late Count, who
had inherited from his grandmother estates in Ireland; and they were
glad to be honoured with the confidence of his successor. Glad, too,
to make the acquaintance of a prince of finance like Sir Charles
Vandrift. Anxious (rubbing their hands) to arrange matters
satisfactorily all round for everybody. (Two capital families with
which to be mixed up, you see.)

Sir Charles named a price, and referred them to his solicitors.
The Count named a higher, but still a little come-down, and left
the matter to be settled between the lawyers. He was a soldier and
a gentleman, he said, with a Tyrolese toss of his high-born head;
he would abandon details to men of business.

As I was really anxious to oblige Amelia, I met the Count
accidentally next day on the steps of Morley's. (Accidentally,
that is to say, so far as he was concerned, though I had been
hanging about in Trafalgar Square for half an hour to see him.)
I explained, in guarded terms, that I had a great deal of influence
in my way with Sir Charles; and that a word from me-- I broke
off. He stared at me blankly.

"Commission?" he inquired, at last, with a queer little smile.

"Well, not exactly commission," I answered, wincing. "Still, a
friendly word, you know. One good turn deserves another."

He looked at me from head to foot with a curious scrutiny. For one
moment I feared the Tyrolese nobleman in