Truth to tell, Leslie was beginning to long for the far-spreading plains of his Australian home once more; his was a quiet, thoughtful nature, unfitted for the gay scenes in which he had lately found himself a passive actor, and he was—save for one sister, married years ago, and now with her husband in Bermuda—alone in the world; and he thinks rather sadly, perhaps, as he walks slowly back through the crowd of fashionables to the _Imperial_, where he is staying: “And alone most likely to the end.” He had not been in his room many minutes before there came a knock at the door; and, scarcely waiting for answer, in darted a very red-faced, very stout, and apparently very flurried old gentleman, who, setting his gold eyeglasses firmly on his nose, at once began: “Er—ah, Mr. Leslie, I believe? Got your number from the porter, you see—great rascal, by the way, that porter; always looks as if he wanted something, you know—then the visitors’ book, and so. Yes; it’s all right so far. There’s the thing now!”—glancing at the old Quandong stone which still hung at Leslie’s watch-chain. “I”—he went on—”that is, my name is Raby, Colonel Raby, and—— Dear me, yes; must apologise, ought to have done that at first, for intrusion, and all that kind of thing; but really, you see”—— And here the old gentleman paused, fairly for want of breath, his purple cheeks expanding and contracting, whilst, instead of words, he emitted a series of little puffs; and John, whilst asking him to take a seat, entertained rather strong doubts of his visitor’s sanity. “Now,” said he at length, when he perceived signs that the colonel was about to recommence, “kindly let me know in what way I can be of use to you.” “Bother take the women!” ejaculated the visitor, as he recovered his breath again. “But you see, Mr. Leslie, it was all through my niece. She caught sight of that thing—funny-looking thing, too—on your chain whilst we were on the Parade this evening, and nearly fainted away—she did, sir, I do assure you, in Mrs. Raby’s arms, too, sir; and if I had not got a cup of water from the drinking fountain, and poured it over her head, there would most likely have been a bit of a scene, sir, and then—— We are staying in this house, you know. We saw you come in just behind us; and so—of course it’s all nonsense, but the fact is”—— “Excuse me,” interrupted Leslie, who was growing impatient; “but may I ask the name of the lady—your niece, I mean?” “My niece, sir,” replied the colonel, rather ruffled at being cut short, “is known as Miss Margaret Drury; and if you will only have the kindness to convince her as to the utter absurdity of an idea which she somehow entertains that that affair, charm, trinket, or whatever you may call it, once belonged to a brother of hers, I shall be extremely obliged to you, for really”—relapsing again—“when the women once get hold of a fad of the kind, a man’s peace is clean gone, sir, I do assure you.”