The place was not interfered with for years, the reason being that it was patronised by many of the upper ten thousand. The Jew who conducted it carried on the concern, small as it was, sufficiently long to amass a large fortune. He was unmolested by the police authorities, and, although he had no spirit licence, he contrived to serve brandy and other liquors in the guise of cups of tea and coffee. It has been with truth often said that “one man may steal a horse, while a less favoured one must not look over the hedge.” While Peace and his companion were seated at one of the tables, taking stock of the company, a private soldier suddenly entered the sacred precincts of this hallowed establishment. The porter told him to leave――that he could not be served with anything. The soldier was “half seas over,” and, striking a defiant attitude, declared his money was as good as anybody else’s, and that he would be served. The landlord came from behind the bar, and informed this valiant son of Mars that he was in a club-house, and none but members could be served. This did not satisfy the soldier, who was disposed to be troublesome, for he was too powerful a man to be forcibly ejected, and of course everyone present dreaded a row. A tall gentlemanly-looking man with the greatest composure rose from one of the tables, and, walking up to the side of the soldier, whispered something in his ear. The effect of this was perfectly magical. From a lion the soldier became a lamb; he slid through the folding doors, and disappeared like a sprite in a pantomime. “You possess a potent power,” said Kempshead to the gentleman. “How did you contrive to tame the wild animal?” “I merely mentioned the name of his commanding officer,” replied the other. “Wonderful. It shows what discipline does.” The company assembled in the coffee-room took no notice of Peace or Kempshead, whom they doubtless looked upon as beneath them, and as there was nothing more to be seen they arose and took their departure. They had not gone very far before they were brought to a sudden halt. A fashionably dressed woman, who was walking behind them, touched Peace on the shoulder――he turned round and stared her full in the face. “Well,” said he, “what do you want with me?” “Don’t you know me?” cried the female.” “No, I can’t say that I do, but your voice is familiar to me.” “Don’t you remember Laura Stanbridge, Charlie?” “Why of course, mercy on us, it is a long time since I set eyes upon you. Laura, dear me, yes, I know you well enough. I haven’t seen you for ever so long――not since you left Sheffield.” “No, not since I left Sheffield.” “I’ll take my hook,” said Kempshead to Peace. “You can follow me on to the hotel. I suppose you have met with an old acquaintance?” “I shan’t be long after you,” murmured Peace. “Right you are,” returned Mr. Kempshead, walking rapidly away. CHAPTER XL. PEACE PAYS A VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE――THE BOY BIRDS-NEST SELLER.