“That is a very different thing, Frank,” observed the Duke with a patient smile. “I suppose that I am at liberty to acquire a brougham and a horse if it occurs to me to do so?” “Of course, your Grace,” stammered Frank. “I will drive into town in that brougham to-day, Frank,” said the Duke. Frank bowed and withdrew. The Duke strolled to the window and stood looking out as he smoked his cigarette. “I don’t think the man will call again,” said he. Then he drew from his pocket the ten-pound note that the young man had given him, and regarded it thoughtfully. “A brougham, a horse, ten pounds, and a very diverting experience,” he mused. “Yes, I am in better spirits this morning!” As for the Queen Bess flagon, he appeared to have forgotten all about it. THE DUKE’S ALLOTMENT I The Duke of Belleville (nothing annoyed his Grace more than to hear his name mispronounced--it should sound “Bevvle”) was tired of it all. That succinctly expresses his condition; and the condition is really not to be wondered at after fifteen years of an existence such as his, although it is true that he had occasionally met with some agreeable and even some unexpected adventures. He wanted a new sensation, a new experience, a new environment, although it was possible that he would not want any of them for very long. He consulted his man Frank on the matter one evening at dinner. “When I felt like that as a lad, your Grace,” Frank remarked, “my father used to put me to digging.” “Excellent, Frank! Buy me a labourer’s allotment to-morrow morning.” “Very good, your Grace,” said Frank. He was an invaluable servant, although at times, the Duke would complain, lacking in imagination. “Have you got it, Frank?” said the Duke the next morning at lunch. “Yes, your Grace. And I thought it well also to obtain a cottage.” “Very thoughtful! Clothes?” “I thought that perhaps your Grace would prefer to give your personal----” “Quite right, Frank. I’ll go to Clarkson’s to-morrow.” “I beg your Grace’s pardon--am I to accompany your Grace?” “I do not propose to dig all night, nor even after sunset. Men on allotments eat, I am given to suppose!” “I beg your Grace’s pardon.” “Never mind, Frank. In the evening we shall be as usual. Give the necessary orders. Neither you nor the _chef_ will, of course, be visible.” “Very good, your Grace.” Frank placed the coffee and old brandy on the table, and withdrew. The next morning the Duke repaired to Wardour Street and mentioned something about private theatricals. The suave and accomplished proprietor was fertile in suggestion. “I mustn’t look too new or clean,” the Duke stipulated. The hint was sufficient; he was equipped with an entirely realistic costume. “Duplicate it, please,” said the Duke as he re-entered his brougham. “It was careless of me to forget that it might rain.”