"Say," said Mr. Bill Slewer of Four Ways, "I’m wise." "I’m delighted to hear it," said Sir Harry, "and——" "I’m wise to this peace-on-earth talk," said Mr. Slewer approvingly, "I know the dope. I seen it handed out. Mike Sheehan the alderman felly in New York was fat with it. ’No violence,’ says he, ’when I’m around,’ says he, ’and if you sock him good,’ says he, ’do it when I’m sayin’ grace at Delmonico’s.’" "I assure you, my good fellow——" "Switch off," suggested Mr. Slewer in the friendliest manner. "You’re in this Silver Streak deal." "That is settled," said Sir Harry quickly. "Settled nothing," said the calm Bill, "I’m next to that deal: Judge Mogg an’ me’s the David-Jonathan turn. Knew Mogg when his father was toting a five cent freak show round California in ’76—I was one of dem freaks." He chuckled noiselessly. "The hairy boy from Opkomstisalvacato for mine," he said reminiscently, "young Al. Mogg took the money at the door—that’s how _he_ made his pile." Sir Harry Tanneur preserved a sulky silence. "Silver Streak," pursued Bill, "she’s a whereas-an’-hereby proposition to me, but Al. sorted out the situation—yes, sir. Silver Streak is a life tenancy, an’ the London and Denver have got second option. See? This Duke felly got it in his own name, so when he goes to glory, in steps the imperishable London an’ Denver Corporation—that’s youse." Bill’s face was peculiarly expressionless, but his pale blue eyes challenged contradiction. "There’s a bit in that contract about the heirs of his body," he wagged his head knowingly, "so it comes to this: Dukey ain’t much use to you alive——" "Stop, sir!" The knight drew himself up to his full height. "The suggestion you make is infamous, and I must solemnly and emphatically place on record my complete and absolute disapproval of your reasoning. I do not know whether it is not my duty to inform the police of your threat—for it is a threat—to create—er—a breach of the peace." He took up his hat and moved to the door. "I content myself by saying that I dissociate myself from any private scheme of vengeance you may contemplate against the Duc de Montvillier." Bill’s eyes closed wearily. "You make me tired," he said simply. Sir Harry left without remembering to recover his cigar case, and, curiously enough, Bill forgot to remind him. III Alicia Terrill did not view the _Brockley Aristocrat_ with unmixed joy. Even the lines "To A.T. with the homage of R.N." did little to reconstruct her sentiments in the matter. They ran— Thou peerless daughter of the age, So beautiful and fearless; There soon shall come another stage, When thou wilt not be Peerless. She thought them rather impertinent, and it may be said that she did not like Mr. Nape over much. Her objection to the _Aristocrat_ was its irritating appearance of permanency. She was a girl with decided views.