boundaries of the most intellectual
respectability. He was the most innocent of men, although he knew all
the important editors in London. Swaddled in money by his successful
wife, he considered her a goddess. She poured the thousands into Coutts'
Bank, and with the arrival of each fresh thousand he was more firmly
convinced that she was a goddess. To say he looked up to her would be
too mild. As the Cockney tourist in Chamounix peers at the summit of
Mont Blanc, he peered at Mrs. Greyne. And when, finally, she bought the
lease of the mansion in Belgrave Square, he knew her Delphic.

So now he appeared in the oracle's retreat respectfully, "What is it,
Eugenia?" upon his admiring lips.

"Sit down, my husband," she murmured.

Mr. Greyne subsided by the fire, placing his pointed patent-leather toes
upon the burnished fender. Without the fog grew deeper, and the chorus
of the muffin bells more plaintive. The fire-light, flickering over Mrs.
Greyne's majestic features, made them look Rembrandtesque. Her large,
oxlike eyes were fixed and thoughtful. After a pause, she said:

"Eustace, I shall have to send you upon a mission."

"A mission, Eugenia!" said Mr. Greyne in great surprise.

"A mission of the utmost importance, the utmost delicacy."

"Has it anything to do with Romeike & Curtice?"

"No."

"Will it take me far?"

"That is my trouble. It will take you very far."

"Out of London?"

"Oh, yes."

"Out of--not out of England?"

"Yes; it will take you to Algeria."

"Good gracious!" cried Mr. Greyne.

Mrs. Greyne sighed.

"Good gracious!" Mr. Greyne repeated after a short interval. "Am I to
go alone?" "Of course you must take Darrell." Darrell was Mr. Greyne's
valet.

"And what am I to do at Algiers?"

"You must obtain for me there the whole of the material for book six
of 'Catherine's Repentance,'" "Catherine's Repentance" was the gigantic
novel upon which Mrs. Greyne was at that moment engaged.

"I will not disguise from you, Eustace," continued Mrs. Greyne, looking
increasingly Rembrandtesque, "that, in my present work, I am taking a
somewhat new departure."

"Well, but we are very comfortable here," said Mr. Greyne.

With each new book they had changed their abode. "Harriet" took them
from Phillimore Gardens to Queensgate Terrace; "Jane's Desire" moved
them on to a corner house in Sloane Street; with "Isobel's Fortune" they
passed to Curzon Street; "Susan's Vanity" landed them in Coburg Place