"They don't know it," he argued; "but Sylla Chipchase's father is a wealthy man, and the young lady, in consequence of her mother's settlement, a very long way off a penniless maiden. I don't think Lady Mary has ever yet thought about Jim's marrying at all; but if Beauchamp and Blanche only make a match of it, I fancy it would reconcile her ladyship to a good deal. She wouldn't then, at all events, be beaten at all points of the game by her pet aversion--Mrs. Wriothesley." And once more Mr. Cottrell chuckled over the situation. "Piccadilly, eh?" he muttered, looking out of the window. "I don't feel a bit like bed. Egad, I'll turn in here and have another cigar;" and so saying Mr. Cottrell stopped his brougham at the door of a well-known club, got out, and leisurely ascended the steps. Several men were seated smoking in the hall, and a little knot, of which Lionel Beauchamp was the principal figure, attracted Mr. Cottrell's attention. "Ah, my lords of Greenwich and Gravesend!" he exclaimed gaily, "all the world is much exercised about you and your doings. Wondrous are the stories afloat as to the fitting out of your ship, and all the fun that you have prepared for us. People don't know what to expect. Some say you are about to revive the old Folly and Ranelagh. Others that you have rolled the Italian Opera and Willis's Rooms all into one, and put it on board ship." "I can't say what they expect in the way of entertainment," exclaimed Beauchamp, "but they seem to think that we have at all events chartered the Great Eastern. We are perfectly inundated with applications for tickets." "No doubt," replied Cottrell, as he took a chair beside them; "and from people of whose existence you were in happy ignorance. To extend your acquaintance, only give a big show of some sort, and let it be known that a card of invitation is well-nigh an impossibility. But what a very dandy cigar-case!" and as he spoke Cottrell lifted from the table by Beauchamp's side a very smart specimen of the article in question, made of maroon velvet, with a monogram embroidered on one side, and the motto, "_Loquaces si sapiat vitet_," on the other. "Very pretty indeed," he continued, looking at the monogram; "but surely you don't spell Lionel with a T?" "No," replied Beauchamp, laughing; "I spell it with an 'L,' like other people; but that cigar-case was neither embroidered nor made for me." "I see," rejoined Cottrell: "you have been annexing a friend's property. I regret to see the notorious laxity of principle on the subject of umbrellas is extending to cigar-cases." "Wrong again," replied Beauchamp. "I am in perfectly legitimate possession of the case, although it was not made for me." Insatiable thirst for gossip is naturally allied with insatiable curiosity, and Mr. Cottrell was no exception. "J. B., J. B.?" he said, still fingering the case. "I have it! I am right, for a dollar! You borrowed it from Jim Bloxam when we were down at Todborough."