'Well, I have. It don't weigh on my mind any, but it was interesting. Life _is_ interesting for a rich--for any--man in England. Ya-as! Life in England is like settin' in the front row at the theatre and never knowin' when the whole blame drama won't spill itself into your lap. I didn't always know that. I lie abed now, and I blush to think of some of the breaks I made in South Africa. About the British. Not your official method of doin' business. But the Spirit. I was 'way, 'way off on the Spirit. Are you acquainted with any other country where you'd have to kill a man or two to get at the National Spirit?' 'Well,' I answered, 'next to marrying one of its women, killing one of its men makes for pretty close intimacy with any country. I take it you killed a British citizen.' 'Why, no. Our syndicate confined its operations to aliens--dam-fool aliens.... 'J'ever know an English lord called Lundie[5]? Looks like a frame-food and soap advertisement. I imagine he was in your Supreme Court before he came into his lordship.' [Footnote 5: 'The Puzzler': _Actions and Reactions_.] 'He is a lawyer--what we call a Law Lord--a Judge of Appeal--not a real hereditary lord.' 'That's as much beyond me as _this_!' Zigler slapped a fat Debrett on the table. 'But I presoom this unreal Law Lord Lundie is kind o' real in his decisions? I judged so. And--one more question. 'Ever meet a man called Walen?' 'D'you mean Burton-Walen, the editor of--?' I mentioned the journal. 'That's him. 'Looks like a tough, talks like a Maxim, and trains with kings.' 'He does,' I said. 'Burton-Walen knows all the crowned heads of Europe intimately. It's his hobby.' 'Well, there's the whole outfit for you--exceptin' my Lord Marshalton, _né_ Mankeltow, an' me. All active murderers--specially the Law Lord--or accessories after the fact. And what do they hand you out for _that_, in this country?' 'Twenty years, I believe,' was my reply. He reflected a moment.