LITMIR.BIZ

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which I felt to be dreadful. Then in a big, pompous voice A.-S. père said,

      “How do you do, my dear Luna? As I ascertained from the footman that you had not yet gone to dress, I insisted upon his leading us here for a little private conversation after we have been parted for so many years. We wished to offer you our condolences in person on your and our still recent loss.”

      “Thank you,” said Lady Ragnall, “but I think we have corresponded on the subject which is painful to me.”

      “I fear that we are interrupting a smoking party, Thomas,” said Mrs. A.-S. in a cold voice, sniffing at the air for all the world like a suspicious animal, whereon the five of them stared at Lady Ragnall’s cigarette which she held between her fingers.

      “Yes,” said Lady Ragnall. “Won’t you have one? Mr. Quatermain, hand Mrs. Smith the box, please.”

      I obeyed automatically, proffering it to the lady who nearly withered me with a glance, and then to each to each in turn. To my relief the young man took one.

      “Archibald,” said his mother, “you are surely not going to make your sisters’ dresses smell of tobacco just before dinner.”

      Archibald sniggered and replied,

      “A little more smoke will not make any difference in this room, Ma.”

      “That is true, darling,” said Mrs. A.-S. and was straightway seized with a fit of asthma.

      After this I am sure I don’t know what happened, for muttering something about its being time to dress, I rushed from the room and wandered about until I could find someone to conduct me to my own where I lingered until I heard the dinner-bell ring. But even this retreat was not without disaster, for in my hurry I trod upon one of the young lady’s dresses; I don’t know whether it was Dolly’s or Polly’s (they were named Dolly and Polly) and heard a dreadful crack about her middle as though she were breaking in two. Thereon Archibald giggled again and Dolly and Polly remarked with one voice—they always spoke together,

      “Oh! clumsy!”

      To complete my misfortunes I missed my way going downstairs and strayed to and fro like a lost lamb until I found myself confronted by a green baize door which reminded me of something. I stood staring at it till suddenly a vision arose before me of myself following a bell wire through that very door in the darkness of the night when in search for the late Mr. Savage upon a certain urgent occasion. Yes, there could be no doubt about it, for look! there was the wire, and strange it seemed to me that I should live to behold it again. Curiosity led me to push the door open just to ascertain if my memory served me aright about the exact locality of the room. Next moment I regretted it for I fell straight into the arms of either Polly or Dolly.

      “Oh!” said she, “I’ve just been sewn up.”

      I reflected that this was my case also in another sense, but asked feebly if she knew the way downstairs.

      She didn’t; neither of us did, till at length we met Mrs. Smith coming to look for her.

      If I had been a burglar she could not have regarded me with graver suspicions. But at any rate she knew the way downstairs. And there to my joy I found my old friend Scroope and his wife, both of them grown stout and elderly, but as jolly as ever, after which the Smith family ceased to trouble me.

      Also there was the rector of the parish, Dr. Jeffreys and an absurdly young wife whom he had recently married, a fluffy-headed little thing with round eyes and a cheerful, perky manner. The two of them together looked exactly like a turkey-cock and a chicken. I remembered him well enough and to my astonishment he remembered me, perhaps because Lady Ragnall, when she had hastily invited him to meet the Smith family, mentioned that I was coming. Lastly there was the curate, a dark, young man who seemed to be always brooding over the secrets of time and eternity, though perhaps he was only thinking about his dinner or the next day’s services.

      Well, there we stood in that well-remembered drawing-room in which first I had made the acquaintance of Harût and Marût; also of the beautiful Miss Holmes as Lady Ragnall was then called. The Scroopes, the Jeffreys and I gathered in one group and the Atterby-Smiths in another like a force about to attack, while between the two, brooding and indeterminate, stood the curate, a neutral observer.

      Presently Lady Ragnall arrived, apologizing for being late. For some reason best known to herself she had chosen to dress as though for a great party. I believe it was out of mischief and in order to show Mrs. Atterby-Smith some of the diamonds she was firmly determined that family should never inherit. At any rate there she stood glittering and lovely, and smiled upon us.

      Then came dinner and once more I marched to the great hall in her company; Dr. Jeffreys got Mrs. Smith; Papa Smith got Mrs. Jeffreys who looked like a Grecian maiden walking into dinner with the Minotaur; Scroope got one of the Miss Smiths, she who wore a pink bow, the gloomy curate got the other with a blue bow, and Archibald got Mrs. Scroope who departed making faces at us over his shoulder.

      “You look very grand and nice,” I said to Lady Ragnall as we followed the others at a discreet distance.

      “I am glad,” she answered, “as to the nice, I mean. As for the grand, that dreadful woman is always writing to me about the Ragnall diamonds, so I thought that she should see some of them for the first and last time. Do you know I haven’t worn these things since George and I went to Court together, and I daresay shall never wear them again, for there is only one ornament I care for and I have got that on under my dress.”

      I stared and her and with a laugh said that she was very mischievous.

      “I suppose so,” she replied, “but I detest those people who are pompous and rude and have spoiled my party. Do you know I had half a mind to come down in the dress that I wore as Isis in Kendah Land. I have got it upstairs and you shall see me in it before you go, for old time’s sake. Only it occurred to me that they might think me mad, so I didn’t. Dr. Jeffreys, will you say grace, please?”

      Well, it was a most agreeable dinner so far as I was concerned, for I sat between my hostess and Mrs. Scroope and the rest were too far off for conversation. Moreover as Archibald developed an unexpected quantity of small talk, and Scroope on the other side amused himself by filling pink-bow Miss Smith’s innocent mind with preposterous stories about Africa, as had happened to me once before at this table, Lady Ragnall and I were practically left undisturbed.

      “Isn’t it strange that we should find ourselves sitting here again after all these years, except that you are in my poor mother’s place? Oh! when that scientific gentleman convinced me the other day that you whom I had heard were dead, were not only alive and well but actually in England, really I could have embraced him.”

      I thought of an answer but did not make it, though as usual she read my mind for I saw her smile.

      “The truth is,” she went on, “I am an only child and really have no friends, though of course being—well, you know,” and she glanced at the jewels on her breast, “I have plenty of acquaintances.”

      “And suitors,” I suggested.

      “Yes,” she replied blushing, “as many as Penelope, not one of whom cares twopence about me any more than I care for them. The truth is, Mr. Quatermain, that nobody and nothing interest me, except a spot in the churchyard yonder and another amid ruins in Egypt.”

      “You have had sad bereavements,” I said looking the other way.

      “Very sad and they have left life empty. Still I should not complain for I have had my share of good. Also it isn’t true to say that nothing interests me. Egypt interests me, though after what has happened I do not feel as though I could return there. All Africa interests me and,” she added dropping her voice, “I can say it because I know you will not misunderstand, you interest me, as you have always done since the first moment I saw you.”

      “I!” I exclaimed, staring at my own reflection in a silver plate which made me look—well, more unattractive than

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