“All your portmanteaux have come, sir,” said that officer. “I saw them put into your room myself last night.” “And the wine?” “Nine cases of it, sir, stowed in the cabin store-room. My steward got in all the other things you ordered exactly as they were written out on the list, and for a cook I have managed to secure a man off a big Cunarder—by paying for him, of course. But, then, you told me, sir, I was not to spare cost.” “Quite right, Captain Colson; quite right. Money must be no object when we have health to consider; and my advisers tell me that it is absolutely dangerous for me to remain in England any longer. A change is imperative for me. You are ready to get under weigh?” “We finished coaling an hour ago. We are only waiting for you, sir.” “Then,” said Mr. Shelf, with a pleasant smile, “do not rob me of another minute of my hardly-earned holiday, captain. Use your magician’s wand and waft me from the cares of business and the coal-dust of Newport—as quickly as ever you may. I will go below now and snatch a wink of sleep; and when I wake, let it be to breathe the pure sea air as it comes in sweet and clear and salt from the mouth of the Bristol Channel.” The captain was a practical man, who did not appreciate rhapsodies. He said, “Very well, sir; I’ll get her under weigh at once,” and left for the upper bridge. Mr. Theodore Shelf, with George at his heels, went below, undressed, and turned in. He slept placidly, and meanwhile the steamer worked out of dock and began to make her way down the reddened waters of the great estuary. He dreamed of conquering another financial kingdom for himself in a South American Republic. It was a very pleasant dream, full of rich and voluptuous detail. When he woke, he began at once the process of cutting himself adrift from his old life. His clothes of every-day wear—the prim black broadcloth that he preached in, addressed the House of Commons in, wore for business purposes in the City—lay in a ruffled heap on the cabin floor. He unscrewed the port-hole, and dropped the garments one by one on to the sunny waves which raced by outside. And then he drew from his portmanteau tweeds of a daring pattern and yellow boots and a smart straw hat; and in ten minutes he was another man. The smug, hypocritical smile was gone from his face, and his lips pouted lovingly round an excellent cigar. Except by stealth he had not smoked for fifteen years, and as the fumes went up he felt that he was burning a pleasant incense to his new-bought liberty. He would have smoked in bed had he thought of it; but as it was, smoking before breakfast made the next best thing, since both seemed eminently rakish.