Same game next day. Uxmoor driving, Zoe wonderfully polite, but chill, because he was separating her and Severne. At night, Severne on the wet grass, and Zoe remonstrating severely, but not sincerely, and closing the window peremptorily she would have liked to keep open half the night. It has often been remarked that great things arise out of small things, and sometimes, when in full motion, depend on small things. History offers brilliant examples upon its large stage. Fiction has imitated history in _un verre d'eau_ and other compositions. To these examples, real or feigned, I am now about to add one; and the curious reader may, if he thinks it worth while, note the various ramifications at home and abroad of a seemingly trivial incident. They were all seated at luncheon, when a servant came in with a salver, and said, “A gentleman to see you, sir.” He presented his salver with a card upon it. Severne clutched the card, and jumped up, reddening. “Show him in here,” said the hospitable Vizard. “No, no,” cried Severne, rather nervously; “it is my lawyer on a little private business.” Vizard told the servant to show the visitor into the library, and take in the Madeira and some biscuits. “It is about a lease,” said Ned Severne, and went out rather hurriedly. “La!” said Fanny, “what a curious name--Poikilus. And what does S. I. mean, I wonder?” “This is enigmatical discourse,” said Vizard, dryly. “Please explain.” “Why, the card had Poikilus on it.” “You are very inquisitive,” said Zoe, coloring. “No more than my neighbors. But the man put his salver right between our noses, and how could I help seeing Poikilus in large letters, and S. I. in little ones up in the corner?” Said Vizard, “The female eye is naturally swift. She couldn't help seeing all that in _half a minute of time;_ for Ned Severne snatched up the card with vast expedition.” “I saw that too,” said Fanny, defiantly. Uxmoor put in his word. “Poikilus! That is a name one sees in the papers.” “Of course you do. He is one of the humbugs of the day. Pretends to find things out; advertises mysterious disappearances; offers a magnificent reward--with perfect safety, because he has invented the lost girl's features and dress, and her disappearance into the bargain; and I hold with the schoolmen that she who does not exist cannot disappear. Poikilus, a puffing detective. S. I., Secret Inquiry. _I_ spell Enquiry with an E--but Poikilus is a man of the day. What the deuce can Ned Severne want of him? I suppose I ought not to object. I have established a female detective at Hillstoke. So Ned sets one up at Islip. I shall make my own secret arrangements. If Poikilus settles here, he will be drawn through the horse-pond by small-minded rustics once a week.”