"As he is not in the book, I may mention that he is a Mr. Nathan Samuel. But no matter. A nose by any other name would smell as efficiently. He is a true Christian with no fault except his love for me. "The necessary particulars will be sent to your solicitors, and I hope you will then get busy. "Ta-ta, old crock. Yours, Mabel. "P.S.--You shouldn't leave oxalic acid about like that. Don't you know it's a poison? I've hidden it underneath your dress-shirts, in case of accidents." Luke put the letter down. There was a step outside the door and Dot entered. "Thought I should find you here," said Dot. "Everything all right?" "Couldn't be better. But why did she leave the letter on the hot-water tap?" "Oh, that was just a little joke of hers. She said you always got into any hot water that might be going about, and so you'd be sure to find it there." "Do you see what this means, Dot? It means that in future we can play at boats without any fear of interruption." "M'yes," said Dot. "It's not the very devil of a game, is it? Been over the house yet? I must say it does look nice, now all the cleaning and decorating's finished. Albert and Hector both noticed it." "Yes, very nice. I suppose you and Dash would like to be getting dinner for me." "That's what we're panting after. But it can't be done, because there's nothing to eat. At least, there's nothing for you. Besides, after this afternoon we are both emotionally worn-out. And that's not all. Albert and Hector brought us a bit of news from Gallows. Just you take my tip and ask no questions. You take the train into Dilborough and dine at the 'Crown.' You might--I don't say you will, but you might--get a bit of a surprise. If you hurry you'll catch the 7.5." Luke thrust his wife's letter into his pocket, and hurried. 5 "No," said the sad-eyed waiter, in reply to Luke's enquiry. "No, we do not serve the dinner on Sunday night. In Dilborough Sunday night, there is what you call, nothing doing. You can have a nice chop." "I hate chops," said Luke moodily. "All right, get me a chop." "The lady who stay here, she have a chop too. She also say she hate chops. You have to wait a little time perhaps, because the chef is out Sunday evening. You wait in the drawing-room. It is very nice. Very comfortable. There is a newspaper of last Friday evening." Luke submitted and entered the fly-haunted drawing-room. He sat down with his head in his hands. Mabel's letter had been characteristically unlike her. Her letters were never in the least bit like herself. That was perhaps their only attraction. It was only in the postscript that he seemed actually to hear her speak. "Poor Nathan Samuel!" he said to himself. "Poor Moses Nathan Modecai Samuel!" The door opened and Jona came in, clad in a betrayed-heroine tea-gown. She looked beautiful but tragic. "Jona," he cried, springing to his feet. She shrank back, covering her face with her hands.