"Oh, no," he said, his face lighting up with a frank smile, which appealed to the Secretary in spite of his prejudices. "I never inflict my fads on my friends. I'd promised to send them on to a man in London, and, as I was coming in this direction, brought them part way myself. You see, the average porter cannot understand that a thing may be heavy and yet fragile--if a chest weighs a great deal--and you'd be surprised how heavy a case of slides can be--he bangs it about regardless of labels and warnings; so I generally try to keep an eye on them, or put them in the charge of some trusty friend." "You are much interested in these things?" "The slides? Oh, yes,--collecting them becomes quite absorbing, and now these clever scientists of ours are able to photograph directly on them, it increases our field immensely." "Of course the good you can do with them must be their chief charm to you----" began the Secretary, sententiously. The answer surprised him. "Not at all. On the contrary, my charities, if they _are_ charities, are of a very selfish sort. I suppose you've some kind of amusement which you turn to in your hours for relaxation? Golf, tennis, hunting, what not. These little entertainments are--mine. I thoroughly enjoy them. The fact is, I'm passionately fond of children, and not having any of my own, I've adopted everybody else's for the time being. But it's selfish, purely selfish. Some benighted idiots call me a philanthropist--I'd like to have them come pressing their claims for lazy heathen in my bank parlour, they'd find out what sort of business man I was." And this queer specimen doubled up his fists, and broke into a roar of laughter, which was too hearty to have been assumed. "I'll tell you what it is," he continued, "if it wasn't for our good dominie there, I'd admit to you that I hate a real professional philanthropist--ten to one he's a humbug." The parson held up his hands, and Stanley laughed nervously--the man was actually voicing his own thoughts. "As for charity-- Bah! Charity begins at home. It doesn't go racing over the country with magic lantern shows--that's real downright, selfish egotism." Then, evidently feeling that the conversation had proceeded far enough in this direction, he broke off suddenly, remarking: "They tell me that you're a diplomat." "Yes," said the Secretary. "Perhaps you know my chief?" "I've not that honour. Indeed I've never had any dealings with your countrymen but once, and then I'd reason to regret it." "Really? I'm sorry to hear that." "It was with a large manufacturing company," he continued, and mentioned the name of the concern which had such a sinister reputation in regard to the treaty. "Oh," said the Secretary, at once alert for any information he might pick up. "You mustn't judge my countrymen by that concern--anyway I understand that it's really owned in England."