“I confess that I began to suspect they had hidden it somewhere,” said Sir Dugald, “and would try to make out that we had accepted it as a bribe.” “Of course it must have dropped in when he handed you the treaty,” said Stratford; “but it’s queer that no one noticed it.” “One of the ‘things no feller can understand,’” quoted Sir Dugald, absently. “If you will find your way to the terrace, gentlemen, where I see Lady Haigh is just pouring out tea, I will follow you as soon as I have given an order to Ismail Bakhsh.” Stratford, Dick, and Kustendjian crossed the court slowly, still discussing the incident of the ring, and, mounting the steps, perceived that Fitz had reached the terrace before them, and was engaged in conducting the education of the Persian kitten. He had an idea that it was possible, by dint of kindness and perseverance, to teach any animal to perform an unlimited number of tricks; but so far his theory did not appear to be justified by facts in the case of Colleen Bawn. At this moment he was holding a stick a few inches from the ground, and endeavouring, by means of bribes and encouragement, to induce his pupil to jump over it. Lady Haigh and Georgia were laughing at his efforts, and the kitten sat watching him with unconcerned interest, blinking lazily every now and then with one contemptuous blue eye and one uncomprehending yellow one. “Now, you little beggar, this won’t do! I shall have to take you in hand seriously. I won’t hurt the little beast, Miss Keeling. You don’t imagine I would? But I must teach it to obey orders.” He seized the white mass of fluff which ignored his blandishments so calmly, and proceeded to place it in the required position. The result was a short scuffle, from which the kitten retired in high dudgeon to seek refuge under Georgia’s chair, leaving Fitz defeated, with a long scratch on the back of his hand. “Oh, Mr Anstruther, you have hurt her!” cried Georgia, reproachfully. “I think she has hurt me,” was Fitz’s resentful answer. “Poor little thing! I think she is only frightened,” said Lady Haigh. “We will give her some milk”--and she filled a saucer, and, stooping down, tried to tempt Colleen Bawn out of her hiding-place. It was at this moment that the rest, standing at the edge of the terrace, saw Sir Dugald coming through the archway from Bachelors’ Buildings. “What in the world is the matter with the Chief?” whispered Stratford, quickly; for Sir Dugald was walking as though his feet refused to carry him in a straight line: first a few steps to the right, then a valiant attempt to reach the steps, then a divergence to the left. The men on the terrace watched him in amazement and horror. “He walks as though he was drunk!” said Kustendjian, in a voice of bewilderment. “I wish to goodness he might be!” was the astonishing aspiration which broke from Dick as he ran down into the court, while Stratford turned a look upon the interpreter which made him shake in his shoes.