From mantel-shelf to ceiling had been covered by Gilks, in distemper, with "Against Wind and Tide"--a lovely bit of seascape, to look at which kept you cool on the hottest night; opposite hung Sandy Clobber's hot staring "Sphinx and Pyramids;" Jack Long's crayon caricature of "King Jamie inditing the Counterblast" faced a charming sketch of a charming actress by Acton, R.A.; and there were a score of other gems of art. Such cosy chairs and luxurious lounges; such ventilation, watched over specially by Fairfax, the oldest and perhaps the jolliest member of the Club; such prime cigars and glorious drinks, and pungent anecdote and cheerful conversation, were to be had nowhere else. The room was full when Laurence and Bertram entered, and the former was immediately received with what dramatic critics call "an ovation;" that is, the men generally shook hands with him, and expressed themselves glad to see him back. "And I see by your dress that you've no sooner arrived than you've plunged into the vortex of society, Colonel," said old Fairfax from his post of honour in the chimney-corner. "Not I, Mr. Fairfax," replied Laurence, laughing; "I've only been to the play." "What! not to Spofforth's,-not to the Parthenium?" "Why not? is there any harm? is it a riddle? what is it? Let me know at once, because, whatever it is, I've been there." "No, no; only there's been a difference of opinion about the new piece. Billy Gomon thinks it capital, and gave us a flaming account of it; but since then Captain Hetherington has come in and spoken very strongly against it. Now, Colonel, you can act as umpire between these two referees." "Not at all, not at all," said Mr. Gomon, a mild baldheaded little gentleman who did Boswell to Spofforth, and was rewarded for perpetually blowing his idol's trumpet by opera-ivories and first-night private boxes, and occasional dinners with pleasant theatrical people. "I merely said that there was--ah, an originality,--a cleverness,--and--a--above all a gentlemanly tone in the piece such as you never find in any one's writings but Spofforth's." Most of the men sitting round laughed heartily as Billy Gomon uttered his sentiments in the mildest, most deprecatory manner, and with the pleasantest smile. "Well, that's not bad to begin with; and now, Cis, what have you got to say?" A big man, half sitting, half lolling on an ottoman at the other side of the room, wholly occupied in smoking a very large cigar, staring at the ceiling and pulling his long tawny moustaches, looked up at the mention of his name and said: