Mr. Locket shot his young friend another sharp glance, a silent retort to the glibness of this information. “Very extinct indeed. I’m afraid the subject today would scarcely be regarded as attractive.” “Are you very sure?” Baron asked. Mr. Locket leaned forward a little, with his fingertips on his table, in the attitude of giving permission to retire. “I might consider the question in a special connection.” He was silent a minute, in a way that relegated poor Peter to the general; but meeting the young man’s eyes again he asked: “Are you—a—thinking of proposing an article upon him?” “Not exactly proposing it—because I don’t yet quite see my way; but the idea rather appeals to me.” Mr. Locket emitted the safe assertion that this eminent statesman had been a striking figure in his day; then he added: “Have you been studying him?” “I’ve been dipping into him.” “I’m afraid he’s scarcely a question of the hour,” said Mr. Locket, shuffling papers together. “I think I could make him one,” Peter Baron declared. Mr. Locket stared again; he was unable to repress an unattenuated “You?” “I have some new material,” said the young man, colouring a little. “That often freshens up an old story.” “It buries it sometimes. It’s often only another tombstone.” “That depends upon what it is. However,” Peter added, “the documents I speak of would be a crushing monument.” Mr. Locket, hesitating, shot another glance under his glasses. “Do you allude to—a—revelations?” “Very curious ones.”