"I am with you, Pat!" I cried. "It's to be one of us three, and we are in league against all the other men in London. And now the question is--" "Hear my plan. This very night we'll draw lots as to which of us shall have the first chance. The man who wins shall have the entire support of the other two in every possible way. If she accepts him, then the fates have spoken. If she doesn't, then the next man in the draw shall have his chance, and the rejected suitor and the poor third man shall help _him_ to the utmost of their ability. Is that clear?" He stopped and looked down at us from his great height with a smiling and anxious face. Dear old Pat, I shall always love to think that the proposal came from him, straight, clean and true, as he always was. "So be it," Arthur echoed solemnly. "The league shall begin this very night. Do either of you chaps know any Spanish, by the way?" We shook our heads. "Well, I do," he continued, "and we'll form ourselves into a Santa Hermandad--'The Holy Brotherhood'--it was the name of an old Spanish Society of chivalry ever so many years ago." "Santa Hermandad!" Pat shouted, "and now to shake hands on it. I think we'll not be needing to take an oath." Our three hands were clasped together in an instant and we knew that, come what might, each would be true to that bond. "And now," I said, "to draw lots as to who shall be the first to try his chance. How shall we settle it?" "There's no fairer way," said Arthur, "than the throw of a die. Have you any poker dice, Tom?" "Yes, I have a couple of sets somewhere." "Very well then, we'll take a single one and the first man that throws Queen is the winner." I found the dice and the leather cup and dropped a single one into it. Poker dice, for the benefit of the uninitiate, have the Queen on one side in blue, like the Queen in a pack of cards, the King in red and the Knave in black. On two other faces, the nine and the ten. "Who will throw first?" said Pat. "You throw," I said. There was a rattle, and nine fell upon the table. I nodded to Arthur, who picked up the little ivory square, waved the cup in the air, and threw--an ace. My turn came. I threw an ace also, and Arthur and I looked at Pat with sinking hearts. He threw a King. I don't want another five minutes like that again. We threw and threw and threw and never once did the Queen turn up. At last Arthur said: "Look here, you fellows, I can't stand this much longer, it's playing the devil with my nerves. Let's have one more throw and if Her Majesty doesn't turn up, let's decide it by values. Ace, highest, King, Queen and so on. Tom, your turn." I took up the box, rattled the cube within it for a long time and then dropped it flat upon the table. I had thrown Queen. CHAPTER TWO About a fortnight after the memorable scene in my flat when the league came into being, I was sitting in my editorial room at the offices of the _Evening Special_.