At about the time that George Bevan's train was leaving Waterloo, agrey racing car drew up with a grinding of brakes and a sputter ofgravel in front of the main entrance of Belpher Castle. The slimand elegant young man at the wheel removed his goggles, pulled outa watch, and addressed the stout young man at his side.

　　"Two hours and eighteen minutes from Hyde Park Corner, Boots. Notso dusty, what?"His companion made no reply. He appeared to be plunged in thought.

　　He, too, removed his goggles, revealing a florid and gloomy face,equipped, in addition to the usual features, with a small moustacheand an extra chin. He scowled forbiddingly at the charming scenewhich the goggles had hidden from him.

　　Before him, a symmetrical mass of grey stone and green ivy, BelpherCastle towered against a light blue sky. On either side rollingpark land spread as far as the eye could see, carpeted here andthere with violets, dotted with great oaks and ashes and Spanishchestnuts, orderly, peaceful and English. Nearer, on his left, wererose-gardens, in the centre of which, tilted at a sharp angle,appeared the seat of a pair of corduroy trousers, whose wearerseemed to be engaged in hunting for snails. Thrushes sang in thegreen shrubberies; rooks cawed in the elms. Somewhere in thedistance sounded the tinkle of sheep bells and the lowing of cows.

　　It was, in fact, a scene which, lit by the evening sun of a perfectspring day and fanned by a gentle westerly wind, should havebrought balm and soothing meditations to one who was the soleheir to all this Paradise.

　　But Percy, Lord Belpher, remained uncomforted by the notableco-operation of Man and Nature, and drew no solace from thereflection that all these pleasant things would one day be his own.

　　His mind was occupied at the moment, to the exclusion of all otherthoughts, by the recollection of that painful scene in Bow StreetPolice Court. The magistrate's remarks, which had been tactless andunsympathetic, still echoed in his ears. And that infernal night inVine Street police station . . . The darkness . . . The hard bed. . .

　　The discordant vocalising of the drunk and disorderly in thenext cell. . . . Time might soften these memories, might lessen thesharp agony of them; but nothing could remove them altogether.

　　Percy had been shaken to the core of his being. Physically, he wasstill stiff and sore from the plank bed. Mentally, he was avolcano. He had been marched up the Haymarket in the full sight ofall London by a bounder of a policeman. He had been talked to likean erring child by a magistrate whom nothing could convince that hehad not been under the influence of alcohol at the moment of hisarrest. (The man had said things about his liver, kindlybe-warned-in-time-and-pull-up-before-it-is-too-late things, whichwould have seemed to Percy indecently frank if spoken by hismedical adviser in the privacy of the sick chamber.) It is perhapsnot to be wondered at that Belpher Castle, for all its beauty ofscenery and architecture, should have left Lord Belpher a littlecold. He was seething with a fury which the conversation of ReggieByng had done nothing to allay in the course of the journey fromLondon. Reggie was the last person he would willingly have chosenas a companion in his hour of darkness. Reggie was not soothing. Hewould insist on addressing him by his old Eton nickname of Bootswhich Percy detested. And all the way down he had been breaking outat intervals into ribald comments on the recent unfortunateoccurrence which were very hard to bear.

　　He resumed this vein as they alighted and rang the bell.

　　"This," said Reggie, "is rather like a bit out of a melodrama.

　　Convict son totters up the steps of the old home and punches thebell. What awaits him beyond? Forgiveness? Or the raspberry? True,the white-haired butler who knew him as a child will sob on hisneck, but what of the old dad? How will dad take the blot of thefamily escutcheon?"Lord Belpher's scowl deepened.

　　"It's not a joking matter," he said coldly.

　　"Great Heavens, I'm not joking. How could I have the heart to jokeat a moment like this, when the friend of my youth has suddenlybecome a social leper?""I wish to goodness you would stop.""Do you think it is any pleasure to me to be seen about with a manwho is now known in criminal circles as Percy, the PiccadillyPoliceman-Puncher? I keep a brave face before the world, butinwardly I burn with shame and agony and what not."The great door of the castle swung open, revealing Keggs, thebutler. He was a man of reverend years, portly and dignified, witha respectfully benevolent face that beamed gravely on the youngmaster and Mr. Byng, as if their coming had filled his cup ofpleasure. His light, slightly protruding eyes expressed reverentialgood will. He gave just that touch of cosy humanity to the scenewhich the hall with its half lights and massive furniture needed tomake it perfect to the returned wanderer. He seemed to beintimating that this was a moment to which he had looked forwardlong, and that from now on quiet happiness would reign supreme. Itis distressing to have to reveal the jarring fact that, in hishours of privacy when off duty, this apparently ideal servitor wasso far from being a respecter of persons that he was accustomed tospeak of Lord Belpher as "Percy", and even as "His Nibs". It was,indeed, an open secret among the upper servants at the castle, anda fact hinted at with awe among the lower, that Keggs was at hearta Socialist.

　　"Good evening, your lordship. Good evening, sir."Lord Belpher acknowledged the salutation with a grunt, but Reggiewas more affable.

　　"How are you, Keggs? Now's your time, if you're going to do it." Hestepped a little to one side and indicated Lord Belpher's crimsonneck with an inviting gesture.

　　"I beg your pardon, sir?""Ah. You'd rather wait till you can do it a little more privately.

　　Perhaps you're right."The butler smiled indulgently. He did not understand what Reggiewas talking about, but that did not worry him. He had long sincecome to the conclusion that Reggie was slightly mad, a theorysupported by the latter's valet, who was of the same opinion. Keggsdid not dislike Reggie, but intellectually he considered himnegligible.

　　"Send something to drink into the library, Keggs," said LordBelpher.

　　"Very good, your lordship.""A topping idea," said Reggie. "I'll just take the old car round tothe garage, and then I'll be with you."He climbed to the steering wheel, and started the engine. LordBelpher proceeded to the library, while Keggs melted away throughthe green baize door at the end of the hail which divided theservants' quarters from the rest of the house.

　　Reggie had hardly driven a dozen yards when he perceived hisstepmother and Lord Marshmoreton coming towards him from thedirection of the rose-garden. He drew up to greet them.

　　"Hullo, mater. What ho, uncle! Back again at the old homestead,what?"Beneath Lady Caroline's aristocratic front agitation seemed tolurk.

　　"Reggie, where is Percy?""Old Boots? I think he's gone to the library. I just decanted himout of the car."Lady Caroline turned to her brother.

　　"Let us go to the library, John.""All right. All right. All right," said Lord Marshmoretonirritably. Something appeared to have ruffled his calm.

　　Reggie drove on. As he was strolling back after putting the caraway he met Maud.

　　"Hullo, Maud, dear old thing.""Why, hullo, Reggie. I was expecting you back last night.""Couldn't get back last night. Had to stick in town and rally roundold Boots. Couldn't desert the old boy in his hour of trial."Reggie chuckled amusedly. "'Hour of trial,' is rather good, what?

　　What I mean to say is, that's just what it was, don't you know.""Why, what happened to Percy?""Do you mean to say you haven't heard? Of course not. It wouldn'thave been in the morning papers. Why, Percy punched a policeman.""Percy did what?""Slugged a slop. Most dramatic thing. Sloshed him in the midriff.

　　Absolutely. The cross marks the spot where the tragedy occurred."Maud caught her breath. Somehow, though she could not trace theconnection, she felt that this extraordinary happening must belinked up with her escapade. Then her sense of humour got thebetter of apprehension. Her eyes twinkled delightedly.

　　"You don't mean to say Percy did that?""Absolutely. The human tiger, and what not. Menace to Society andall that sort of thing. No holding him. For some unexplained reasonthe generous blood of the Belphers boiled over, and then--zing.

　　They jerked him off to Vine Street. Like the poem, don't you know.

　　'And poor old Percy walked between with gyves upon his wrists.' Andthis morning, bright and early, the beak parted him from ten quid.

　　You know, Maud, old thing, our duty stares us plainly in theeyeball. We've got to train old Boots down to a reasonable weightand spring him on the National Sporting Club. We've been letting achampion middleweight blush unseen under our very roof tree."Maud hesitated a moment.

　　"I suppose you don't know," she asked carelessly, "why he did it? Imean, did he tell you anything?""Couldn't get a word out of him. Oysters garrulous and tombs chattyin comparison. Absolutely. All I know is that he popped one intothe officer's waistband. What led up to it is more than I can tellyou. How would it be to stagger to the library and join thepost-mortem?""The post-mortem?""Well, I met the mater and his lordship on their way to thelibrary, and it looked to me very much as if the mater must havegot hold of an evening paper on her journey from town. When did shearrive?""Only a short while ago.""Then that's what's happened. She would have bought an eveningpaper to read in the train. By Jove, I wonder if she got hold ofthe one that had the poem about it. One chappie was so carried awayby the beauty of the episode that he treated it in verse. I thinkwe ought to look in and see what's happening."Maud hesitated again. But she was a girl of spirit. And she had anintuition that her best defence would be attack. Bluff was what wasneeded. Wide-eyed, innocent wonder . . . After all, Percy couldn'tbe certain he had seen her in Piccadilly.

　　"All right.""By the way, dear old girl," inquired Reggie, "did your littlebusiness come out satisfactorily? I forgot to ask.""Not very. But it was awfully sweet of you to take me into town.""How would it be," said Reggie nervously, "not to dwell too much onthat part of it? What I mean to say is, for heaven's sake don't letthe mater know I rallied round.""Don't worry," said Maud with a laugh. "I'm not going to talk aboutthe thing at all."Lord Belpher, meanwhile, in the library, had begun with the aid ofa whisky and soda to feel a little better. There was somethingabout the library with its sombre half tones that soothed hisbruised spirit. The room held something of the peace of a desertedcity. The world, with its violent adventures and tall policemen,did not enter here. There was balm in those rows and rows of bookswhich nobody ever read, those vast writing tables at which nobodyever wrote. From the broad mantel-piece the bust of some unnamedancient looked down almost sympathetically. Something remotelyresembling peace had begun to steal into Percy's soul, when it wasexpelled by the abrupt opening of the door and the entry of LadyCaroline Byng and his father. One glance at the face of the formerwas enough to tell Lord Belpher that she knew all.

　　He rose defensively.

　　"Let me explain."Lady Caroline quivered with repressed emotion. This masterly womanhad not lost control of herself, but her aristocratic calm hadseldom been so severely tested. As Reggie had surmised, she had readthe report of the proceedings in the evening paper in the train, andher world had been reeling ever since. Caesar, stabbed by Brutus,could scarcely have experienced a greater shock. The other membersof her family had disappointed her often. She had become inured tothe spectacle of her brother working in the garden in corduroytrousers and in other ways behaving in a manner beneath the dignityof an Earl of Marshmoreton. She had resigned herself to the innateflaw in the character of Maud which had allowed her to fall in lovewith a nobody whom she had met without an introduction. Even Reggiehad exhibited at times democratic traits of which she thoroughlydisapproved. But of her nephew Percy she had always been sure. Hewas solid rock. He, at least, she had always felt, would never doanything to injure the family prestige. And now, so to speak, "Lo,Ben Adhem's name led all the rest." In other words, Percy was theworst of the lot. Whatever indiscretions the rest had committed, atleast they had never got the family into the comic columns of theevening papers. Lord Marshmoreton might wear corduroy trousers andrefuse to entertain the County at garden parties and go to bed witha book when it was his duty to act as host at a formal ball; Maudmight give her heart to an impossible person whom nobody had everheard of; and Reggie might be seen at fashionable restaurants withpugilists; but at any rate evening paper poets had never writtenfacetious verses about their exploits. This crowning degradation hadbeen reserved for the hitherto blameless Percy, who, of all theyoung men of Lady Caroline's acquaintance, had till now appeared tohave the most scrupulous sense of his position, the most rigidregard for the dignity of his great name. Yet, here he was, if thecarefully considered reports in the daily press were to be believed,spending his time in the very spring-tide of his life running aboutLondon like a frenzied Hottentot, brutally assaulting the police.

　　Lady Caroline felt as a bishop might feel if he suddenly discoveredthat some favourite curate had gone over to the worship of MumboJumbo.

　　"Explain?" she cried. "How can you explain? You--my nephew, theheir to the title, behaving like a common rowdy in the streets ofLondon . . . your name in the papers . . .

　　"If you knew the circumstances.""The circumstances? They are in the evening paper. They are inprint.""In verse," added Lord Marshmoreton. He chuckled amiably at therecollection. He was an easily amused man. "You ought to read it,my boy. Some of it was capital . . .""John!""But deplorable, of course," added Lord Marshmoreton hastily. "Verydeplorable." He endeavoured to regain his sister's esteem by a showof righteous indignation. "What do you mean by it, damn it? You'remy only son. I have watched you grow from child to boy, from boy toman, with tender solicitude. I have wanted to be proud of you. Andall the time, dash it, you are prowling about London like a lion,seeking whom you may devour, terrorising the metropolis, puttingharmless policemen in fear of their lives. . .""Will you listen to me for a moment?" shouted Percy. He began tospeak rapidly, as one conscious of the necessity of saying his saywhile the saying was good. "The facts are these. I was walkingalong Piccadilly on my way to lunch at the club, when, nearBurlington Arcade, I was amazed to see Maud."Lady Caroline uttered an exclamation.

　　"Maud? But Maud was here.""I can't understand it," went on Lord Marshmoreton, pursuing hisremarks. Righteous indignation had, he felt, gone well. It might bejudicious to continue in that vein, though privately he held theopinion that nothing in Percy's life so became him as this assaulton the Force. Lord Marshmoreton, who in his time had committed allthe follies of youth, had come to look on his blameless son asscarcely human. "It's not as if you were wild. You've never gotinto any scrapes at Oxford. You've spent your time collecting oldchina and prayer rugs. You wear flannel next your skin . . .""Will you please be quiet," said Lady Caroline impatiently. "Goon, Percy.""Oh, very well," said Lord Marshmoreton. "I only spoke. I merelymade a remark.""You say you saw Maud in Piccadilly, Percy?""Precisely. I was on the point of putting it down to an extraordinaryresemblance, when suddenly she got into a cab. Then I knew."Lord Marshmoreton could not permit this to pass in silence. He wasa fair-minded man.

　　"Why shouldn't the girl have got into a cab? Why must a girlwalking along Piccadilly be my daughter Maud just because she gotinto a cab. London," he proceeded, warming to the argument andthrilled by the clearness and coherence of his reasoning, "is fullof girls who take cabs.""She didn't take a cab.""You just said she did," said Lord Marshmoreton cleverly.

　　"I said she got into a cab. There was somebody else already in thecab. A man. Aunt Caroline, it was the man.""Good gracious," ejaculated Lady Caroline, falling into a chair asif she had been hamstrung.

　　"I am absolutely convinced of it," proceeded Lord Belpher solemnly.

　　"His behaviour was enough to confirm my suspicions. The cab hadstopped in a block of the traffic, and I went up and requested himin a perfectly civil manner to allow me to look at the lady who hadjust got in. He denied that there was a lady in the cab. And I hadseen her jump in with my own eyes. Throughout the conversation hewas leaning out of the window with the obvious intention ofscreening whoever was inside from my view. I followed him alongPiccadilly in another cab, and tracked him to the Carlton. When Iarrived there he was standing on the pavement outside. There wereno signs of Maud. I demanded that he tell me her whereabouts. . .""That reminds me," said Lord Marshmoreton cheerfully, "of a story Iread in one of the papers. I daresay it's old. Stop me if you'veheard it. A woman says to the maid: 'Do you know anything of myhusband's whereabouts?' And the maid replies--""Do be quiet," snapped Lady Caroline. "I should have thought thatyou would be interested in a matter affecting the vital welfare ofyour only daughter.""I am. I am," said Lord Marshmoreton hastily. "The maid replied:

　　'They're at the wash.' Of course I am. Go on, Percy. Good God, boy,don't take all day telling us your story.""At that moment the fool of a policeman came up and wanted to knowwhat the matter was. I lost my head. I admit it freely. Thepoliceman grasped my shoulder, and I struck him.""Where?" asked Lord Marshmoreton, a stickler for detail.

　　"What does that matter?" demanded Lady Caroline. "You did quiteright, Percy. These insolent jacks in office ought not to beallowed to manhandle people. Tell me, what this man was like?""Extremely ordinary-looking. In fact, all I can remember about himwas that he was clean-shaven. I cannot understand how Maud couldhave come to lose her head over such a man. He seemed to me tohave no attraction whatever," said Lord Belpher, a littleunreasonably, for Apollo himself would hardly appear attractivewhen knocking one's best hat off.

　　"It must have been the same man.""Precisely. If we wanted further proof, he was an American. Yourecollect that we heard that the man in Wales was American."There was a portentous silence. Percy stared at the floor. LadyCaroline breathed deeply. Lord Marshmoreton, feeling that somethingwas expected of him, said "Good Gad!" and gazed seriously at astuffed owl on a bracket. Maud and Reggie Byng came in.

　　"What ho, what ho, what ho!" said Reggie breezily. He alwaysbelieved in starting a conversation well, and putting people attheir ease. "What ho! What ho!"Maud braced herself for the encounter.

　　"Hullo, Percy, dear," she said, meeting her brother's accusing eyewith the perfect composure that comes only from a thoroughly guiltyconscience. "What's all this I hear about your being the Scourge ofLondon? Reggie says that policemen dive down manholes when they seeyou coming."The chill in the air would have daunted a less courageous girl.

　　Lady Caroline had risen, and was staring sternly. Percy was pullingthe puffs of an overwrought soul. Lord Marshmoreton, whose thoughtshad wandered off to the rose garden, pulled himself together andtried to look menacing. Maud went on without waiting for a reply.

　　She was all bubbling gaiety and insouciance, a charming picture ofyoung English girlhood that nearly made her brother foam at themouth.

　　"Father dear," she said, attaching herself affectionately to hisbuttonhole, "I went round the links in eighty-three this morning.

　　I did the long hole in four. One under par, a thing I've never donebefore in my life." ("Bless my soul," said Lord Marshmoretonweakly, as, with an apprehensive eye on his sister, he patted hisdaughter's shoulder.) "First, I sent a screecher of a drive rightdown the middle of the fairway. Then I took my brassey and put theball just on the edge of the green. A hundred and eighty yards ifit was an inch. My approach putt--"Lady Caroline, who was no devotee of the royal and ancient game,interrupted the recital.

　　"Never mind what you did this morning. What did you do yesterdayafternoon?""Yes," said Lord Belpher. "Where were you yesterday afternoon?"Maud's gaze was the gaze of a young child who has never evenattempted to put anything over in all its little life.

　　"Whatever do you mean?""What were you doing in Piccadilly yesterday afternoon?" said LadyCaroline.

　　"Piccadilly? The place where Percy fights policemen? I don'tunderstand."Lady Caroline was no sportsman. She put one of those directquestions, capable of being answered only by "Yes" or "No", whichought not to be allowed in controversy. They are the verbalequivalent of shooting a sitting bird.

　　"Did you or did you not go to London yesterday, Maud?"The monstrous unfairness of this method of attack pained Maud. Fromchildhood up she had held the customary feminine views upon the LieDirect. As long as it was a question of suppression of the true orsuggestion of the false she had no scruples. But she had adistaste for deliberate falsehood. Faced now with a choice betweentwo evils, she chose the one which would at least leave herself-respect.

　　"Yes, I did."Lady Caroline looked at Lord Belpher. Lord Belpher looked atLady Caroline.

　　"You went to meet that American of yours?"Reggie Byng slid softly from the room. He felt that he would behappier elsewhere. He had been an acutely embarrassed spectator ofthis distressing scene, and had been passing the time by shufflinghis feet, playing with his coat buttons and perspiring.

　　"Don't go, Reggie," said Lord Belpher.

　　"Well, what I mean to say is--family row and what not--if you seewhat I mean--I've one or two things I ought to do--"He vanished. Lord Belpher frowned a sombre frown. "Then it wasthat man who knocked my hat off?""What do you mean?" said Lady Caroline. "Knocked your hat off? Younever told me he knocked your hat off.""It was when I was asking him to let me look inside the cab. I hadgrasped the handle of the door, when he suddenly struck my hat,causing it to fly off. And, while I was picking it up, he droveaway.""C'k," exploded Lord Marshmoreton. "C'k, c'k, c'k." He twisted hisface by a supreme exertion of will power into a mask ofindignation. "You ought to have had the scoundrel arrested," hesaid vehemently. "It was a technical assault.""The man who knocked your hat off, Percy," said Maud, "wasnot . . . He was a different man altogether. A stranger.""As if you would be in a cab with a stranger," said Lady Carolinecaustically. "There are limits, I hope, to even your indiscretions."Lord Marshmoreton cleared his throat. He was sorry for Maud, whomhe loved.

　　"Now, looking at the matter broadly--""Be quiet," said Lady Caroline.

　　Lord Marshmoreton subsided.

　　"I wanted to avoid you," said Maud, "so I jumped into the first cabI saw.""I don't believe it," said Percy.

　　"It's the truth.""You are simply trying to put us off the scent."Lady Caroline turned to Maud. Her manner was plaintive. She lookedlike a martyr at the stake who deprecatingly lodges a timidcomplaint, fearful the while lest she may be hurting the feelingsof her persecutors by appearing even for a moment out of sympathywith their activities.

　　"My dear child, why will you not be reasonable in this matter? Whywill you not let yourself be guided by those who are older andwiser than you?""Exactly," said Lord Belpher.

　　"The whole thing is too absurd.""Precisely," said Lord Belpher.

　　Lady Caroline turned on him irritably.

　　"Please do not interrupt, Percy. Now, you've made me forget what Iwas going to say.""To my mind," said Lord Marshmoreton, coming to the surface oncemore, "the proper attitude to adopt on occasions like the present--""Please," said Lady Caroline.

　　Lord Marshmoreton stopped, and resumed his silent communion with thestuffed bird.

　　"You can't stop yourself being in love, Aunt Caroline," said Maud.

　　"You can be stopped if you've somebody with a level head lookingafter you."Lord Marshmoreton tore himself away from the bird.

　　"Why, when I was at Oxford in the year '87," he said chattily, "Ifancied myself in love with the female assistant at a tobacconistshop. Desperately in love, dammit. Wanted to marry her. I recollectmy poor father took me away from Oxford and kept me here at Belpherunder lock and key. Lock and key, dammit. I was deucedly upset atthe time, I remember." His mind wandered off into the gloriouspast. "I wonder what that girl's name was. Odd one can't remembernames. She had chestnut hair and a mole on the side of her chin. Iused to kiss it, I recollect--"Lady Caroline, usually such an advocate of her brother's researchesinto the family history, cut the reminiscences short.

　　"Never mind that now.""I don't. I got over it. That's the moral.""Well," said Lady Caroline, "at any rate poor father acted withgreat good sense on that occasion. There seems nothing to do but totreat Maud in just the same way. You shall not stir a step from thecastle till you have got over this dreadful infatuation. You willbe watched.""I shall watch you," said Lord Belpher solemnly, "I shall watchyour every movement."A dreamy look came into Maud's brown eyes.

　　"Stone walls do not a prison make nor iron bars a cage," she saidsoftly.

　　"That wasn't your experience, Percy, my boy," said LordMarshmoreton.

　　"They make a very good imitation," said Lady Caroline coldly,ignoring the interruption.

　　Maud faced her defiantly. She looked like a princess in captivityfacing her gaolers.

　　"I don't care. I love him, and I always shall love him, and nothingis ever going to stop me loving him--because I love him," sheconcluded a little lamely.

　　"Nonsense," said Lady Caroline. "In a year from now you will haveforgotten his name. Don't you agree with me, Percy?""Quite," said Lord Belpher.

　　"I shan't.""Deuced hard things to remember, names," said Lord Marshmoreton.

　　"If I've tried once to remember that tobacconist girl's name, I'vetried a hundred times. I have an idea it began with an 'L.' Murielor Hilda or something.""Within a year," said Lady Caroline, "you will be wondering how youever came to be so foolish. Don't you think so, Percy?""Quite," said Lord Belpher.

　　Lord Marshmoreton turned on him irritably.

　　"Good God, boy, can't you answer a simple question with a plainaffirmative? What do you mean--quite? If somebody came to me andpointed you out and said, 'Is that your son?' do you suppose Ishould say 'Quite?' I wish the devil you didn't collect prayerrugs. It's sapped your brain.""They say prison life often weakens the intellect, father," saidMaud. She moved towards the door and turned the handle. Albert,the page boy, who had been courting earache by listening at thekeyhole, straightened his small body and scuttled away. "Well, isthat all, Aunt Caroline? May I go now?""Certainly. I have said all I wished to say.""Very well. I'm sorry to disobey you, but I can't help it.""You'll find you can help it after you've been cooped up here for afew more months," said Percy.

　　A gentle smile played over Maud's face.

　　"Love laughs at locksmiths," she murmured softly, and passed fromthe room.

　　"What did she say?" asked Lord Marshmoreton, interested.

　　"Something about somebody laughing at a locksmith? I don'tunderstand. Why should anyone laugh at locksmiths? Most respectablemen. Had one up here only the day before yesterday, forcing openthe drawer of my desk. Watched him do it. Most interesting. Hesmelt rather strongly of a damned bad brand of tobacco. Fellow musthave a throat of leather to be able to smoke the stuff. But hedidn't strike me as an object of derision. From first to last, Iwas never tempted to laugh once."Lord Belpher wandered moodily to the window and looked out into thegathering darkness.

　　"And this has to happen," he said bitterly, "on the eve of mytwenty-first birthday."