“Well,” he thought to himself, “I have played a good many curious parts in my time, but I never had to do with anything like this before. I only hope George is not much cut up. His eyes ought to be opened now. What a woman——” but we will not repeat Sir Eustace’s comments upon the lady to whom he was nominally half engaged. At the club Sir Eustace met his friend the Under-Secretary, who had just escaped from the House. Thanks to information furnished to him that morning by Bottles, who had been despatched by Sir Eustace, in a penitent mood, to the Colonial Office to see him, he had just succeeded in confusing, if not absolutely in defeating, the impertinent people who “wanted to know.” Accordingly he was jubilant, and greeted Sir Eustace with enthusiasm, and they sat talking together for an hour or more. Then Sir Eustace, being, as has been said, of early habits, made his way home. In his sitting-room he found his brother smoking and contemplating the fire. “Hullo, old fellow!” he said, “I wish you had come to the club with me. Atherleigh was there, and is delighted with you. What you told him this morning enabled him to smash up his enemies, and as the smashing lately has been rather the other way he is jubilant. He wants you to go to see him again to-morrow. Oh, by the way, you made your escape all right. I only hope I may be as lucky. Well, what do you think of your lady-love now?” “I think,” said Bottles slowly—“that I had rather not say what I do think.” “Well, you are not going to marry her now, I suppose?” “No, I shall not marry her.” “That is all right; but I expect that it will take _me_ all I know to get clear of her. However, there are some occasions in life when one is bound to sacrifice one’s own convenience, and this is one of them. After all, she is really very pretty in the evening, so it might have been worse.” Bottles winced, and Sir Eustace took a cigarette. “By the way, old fellow,” he said, as he settled himself in his chair again, “I hope you are not put out with me over this. Believe me, you have no cause to be jealous; she does not care a hang about me, it is only the title and the money. If a fellow who was a lord and had a thousand a year more proposed to her to-morrow she would chuck me up and take him.” “No; I am not angry with you,” said Bottles; “you meant kindly, but I am angry with myself. It was not honourable to—in short, play the spy upon a woman’s weakness.” “You are very scrupulous,” yawned Sir Eustace; “all means are fair to catch a snake. Dear me, I nearly exploded once or twice; it was better than [yawn] any [yawn] play,” and Sir Eustace went to sleep. Bottles sat still and stared at the fire.