"You talk overmuch in your sleep. Only two nights ago I heard you making such an outcry that I feared you would wake the house. I rushed into your room. You were crouched up among the bed-curtains at the head of the bed and gibbering: 'It will touch her. It flows so fast. Oh, my God! My God!'" I made no answer to his words, and he asked again very earnestly: "The Countess has never seen you? You are sure?" "Quite!" said I firmly, and I shook him by the hand, and so started for London. CHAPTER VIII. I MAKE A BOW TO COUNTESS LUKSTEIN. In London I engaged a commodious lodging on the south side of St. James' Park, and with little delay, you may be sure, sought out my cousin in Monmouth, or rather Soho, Square--for the name had been altered since the execution of the Duke. 'Twas some half an hour after noon, and my cousin, but newly out of bed, was breakfasting upon a bottle of Burgundy in his nightcap and dressing-gown. "So you have come, Morrice," said Elmscott languidly. "How do ye? Lord Culverton, this is my cousin of whom I have spoken." He turned towards a little popinjay man who was fluttering about the room in a laced coat, and powdered periwig which hung so full about his face that it was difficult to distinguish any feature beyond a thin, prominent nose. "You should know one another. For if you remember, Morrice, it was Culverton you robbed of Ph[oe]be." "Ph[oe]be?" simpered Lord Culverton. "I remember no Ph[oe]be. But in truth the pretty creatures pester one so impertinently that burn me if I don't jumble up their names. What was she like, Mr. Buckler?" "She was piebald," said I gravely, "and needed cudgelling before she would walk." "And Morrice killed her," added Elmscott, with a laugh. "Then he did very well to kill her, strike me speechless! But there must be some mistake. I have met many women who needed cudgelling before they would walk, but never one that was piebald." Elmscott explained the matter to him, and then, with some timidity, I began to inquire concerning the Countess Lukstein. "What! bitten already?" cried my cousin. "Faith, I knew not I had so smart a hand for description." "The most rapturous female, pink me!" broke in Lord Culverton. "She is but newly come to London, and hath the town at her feet already. Egad! I'm half-soused in love myself, split my windpipe!" and he flicked a speck of powder from his velvet coat, and carefully arranged the curls of his periwig. "The most provoking creature!" he went on. "A widow without a widow's on-coming disposition." "Ay, but she hath discarded the weeds," said Elmscott