Mr. Billing approached. The corners of his lips were twitching in a curious way. Dr. O’Grady looked at him suspiciously. A casual observer might have supposed that Mr. Billing was trying hard not to smile. “This,” said Dr. O’Grady, pointing to Mary Ellen, “is the grandniece, the only surviving relative, of General John Regan.” “You surprise me,” said Mr. Billing. “When I recollect that she cooked chops for my luncheon to-day I’m amazed.” “The General wouldn’t have thought a bit the worse of her for that,” said Dr. O’Grady. “A true democrat, the General, if ever there was one. I daresay he often cooked chops himself, when campaigning I mean, and was jolly glad to get chops to cook.” “So you,” said Mr. Billing, addressing Mary Ellen, “are the grandniece of the great General?” “I might be,” she said. “And I am to have the privilege—gentlemen, please stand a little aside. I wish to——” Mr. Billing set up his camera and put his head under the black cloth. Constable Moriarty sidled up to Major Kent. Nothing had been said about Mary Ellen’s marriage with young Kerrigan. He felt that he had been unnecessarily alarmed. “I beg your pardon, Major,” he said, “but maybe if you asked the gentleman he’d give me a copy of the photo when it’s took.” “Talk to the doctor about that,” said the Major. “He’s managing this show. I’ve nothing to do with it.” “I’d be backward about asking the doctor,” said Moriarty, “on account of what passed between us a minute ago when I thought he was wanting to take away the girl’s character.” Mr. Billing completed his arrangements and stood beside his camera ready to release the shutter. “You’re quite sure,” said Dr. O’Grady, “that you wouldn’t care to have her face washed?” “Certain,” said Mr. Billing. “The General was a genuine democrat if ever there was one. He wouldn’t have thought a bit the worse of her for having a dirty face.” Dr. O’Grady started slightly and then looked questioningly at Mr. Billing. It struck him that there was something suspicious about this repetition of his words. He glanced at the Major, at Doyle, and then at the two policemen. They all seemed completely absorbed in the taking of the photograph. Mr. Billing’s last remark had not struck them as in any way odd. The shutter clicked. One of Mary Ellen’s sweetest smiles was secured on the sensitive plate. Constable Moriarty, greatly daring, asked Mr. Billing for a print of the photograph. Mr. Billing promised him a copy of the life of General John Regan when it appeared. He said that there would be a full page reproduction of Mary Ellen’s portrait in the second volume. “The Major and I must be off,” said Dr. O’Grady, “but if I may call on you to-morrow morning, Mr. Billing, I should like to make arrangements about the public meeting. We want to have you at it.” “The meeting?” said Doyle.