He slipped the weapon into his pocket, and turned again. The door slammed behind him. ————— II. We caught Bruce McIvor just as he was about to go out. I think I have never seen a man quite so blankly amazed as he when the letter of appointment was placed in his hand. I am more or less accustomed to the various emotions expressed by the victims of O’Hagan’s extraordinary philanthropy; but McIvor was positively alarming. He seemed to be dazed. I think he experienced that kind of sentiment which makes a Frenchman weep, intoxicates an Irishman, but chokes a Scotsman. In the cab which O’Hagan had in waiting we were a silent trio. O’Hagan leant back humming a gay melody, whilst McIvor sat watching him as if he half expected him to vanish like some Arabian _ginn_. Into a charming little villa we filed. McIvor’s nervousness was appalling. He kept close to my distinguished friend, and hung upon his words as though in them alone he hoped for salvation. In a pretty, _petite_ drawing-room we waited; the young Scot, seated on the edge of a chair, looking like a man on trial for murder; I hard put to it to preserve a serene countenance; and O’Hagan wandering from picture to picture, and surveying each through his uplifted monocle with the critical gaze of a connoisseur. Then he turned the glass upon the door, drawing himself up with inimitable grandeur Entered a very pretty girl, and a very prim lady, more mature; excellently but dryly, preserved. McIvor rose and coughed and looked everywhere but straight before him. The pretty girl blushed frantically. The other lady stared, extending her hand to O’Hagan. O’Hagan bowed. O’Hagan’s bow is a notable event. His neat introductory speech ended with something to the effect that—— “My friend, Mr. Lawrence Raymond, would like to be counted among _your_ friends.” I was acknowledged. “I am delighted, Miss Cumberley,” he continued, linking his arm in that of McIvor and drawing him forward, “to present to you the new leader-writer of the _Universe_. Mrs. Cumberley—your future son-in-law. Congratulations!” Can you picture the scene? I think not. Heavens! what a man! I take off my hat to Bernard O’Hagan. EXPLOIT THE THIRD. HE MEETS THE LEOPARD LADY. EXPLOIT THE THIRD. HE MEETS THE LEOPARD LADY. I. THE BOOM-MAKER. My friend Captain O’Hagan frequently is misunderstood; his studied singularity of appearance is falsely ascribed to a desire for notoriety. Whereas he eschews and abominates publicity of any kind, and merely seeks to establish a visible distinction betwixt the aristocrat and the plebeian.