"Certainly." His lordship read: "I hereby agree that in the interval until my wedding with Miss Cynthia Meyrick next Tuesday week I will do all in my power to put through the match, and that should the wedding be called off through any subsequent direct act of mine, I will forfeit all claims on Lloyds." "Will you sign that, please?" requested Mr. Thacker. "With pleasure." His lordship reached for a pen. "You and I, Richard," said Mr. Thacker, "will sign as witnesses. Now, Jephson, go ahead with your fool policy." Mr. Jephson looked up thoughtfully. "Shall I say, your lordship," he asked, "that if, two weeks from to-day the wedding has not taken place, and has absolutely no prospect of taking place, I owe you seventy-five thousand pounds?" "Yes." His lordship nodded. "Provided, of course, I have not forfeited by reason of this agreement. I shall write you a check, Mr. Jephson." For a time there was no sound in the room save the scratching of two pens, while Mr. Thacker gazed open-mouthed at Mr. Minot, and Mr. Minot light-heartedly smiled back. Then Mr. Jephson reached for a blotter. "I shall attend to the London end of this when I reach there five days hence," he said. "Perhaps I can find another underwriter to share the risk with me." The transaction was completed, and his lordship rose to go. "I am at the Plaza," he said, "if any difficulty should arise. But I sail to-night for San Marco--on the yacht of a friend." He crossed over and took Mr. Jephson's hand. "I can only hope, with all my heart," he finished feelingly, "that you never have to pay this policy." "We're with your lordship there," said Mr. Thacker sharply. "Ah--you have been very kind," replied Lord Harrowby. "I wish you all--good day." And shivering no longer, he went away in his fine fur coat. As the door closed upon the nobleman, Mr. Thacker turned explosively on his friend from oversea. "Jephson," he thundered, "you're an idiot! A rank unmitigated idiot!" The Peter Pan light was bright in Jephson's eyes. "So new," he half-whispered. "So original! Bless the boy's heart. I've been waiting forty years for a proposition like that." "Do you realize," Thacker cried, "that seventy-five thousand pounds of your good money depends on the honor of Lord Harrowby?" "I do," returned Jephson. "And I would not be concerned if it were ten times that sum. I know the breed. Why, once--and you, Thacker, would have called me an idiot on that occasion, too--I insured his father against the loss of a polo game by a team on which the earl was playing. And he played like the devil--the earl did--won the game himself. Ah, I know the breed." "Oh, well," sighed Thacker, "I won't argue. But one thing is certain, Jephson. You can't go back to England now. Your place is in San Marco with one hand on the rope that rings the wedding bells." Jephson shook his great bald head.