'Now, boys,' cried Bryan Duval, as the first crack of the champagne corks was heard, 'there must be an exception to the general rule in America to-night--we will have no speech-making.' 'We must have one toast,' cried Willy Webster. 'You won't refuse to drink this--Success to the _Cruiskeen Lawn_.' 'Stay!' cried Van Buren, holding up his hand; 'add this to it--And all our thanks to the lovely Kathleen!' The men rose to their feet to drink the toast, and had not resumed their seats when the door opened, and a tall middle-aged man, with a bald head, aquiline nose, and large grizzled whiskers, entered the room. He made straight for Duval, and shook hands with him warmly. 'My dear Brighthurst,' cried the host, 'I am delighted to see you. We were all just now regretting your absence, and if you had not been so erratic a being, should have wondered at its cause. However, here you are--let me present you to Miss Montressor.' After his introduction, Mr. Brighthurst took the vacant seat, and bending over to the young actress, said: 'You must not fully believe all these gentlemen say about my Bohemianism and erratic propensities, Miss Montressor; living in crystal palaces themselves, they should be the last to throw stones. They cannot understand, these frivolous butterflies, that I am a steady man, and that I was prevented from coming here by attention to my duty.' 'No, we certainly cannot understand that,' said Mr. Looby. 'No, indeed, bedad,' said Mr. O'Gog; 'that is not your usual form, Brighthurst, anyhow!' 'It may not be my usual form, sweet flower of Erin,' said Mr. Brighthurst; 'but what I say happens to be correct as regards to-night. I was detained at the office to write a short editorial upon some news which just came in.' 'News!' cried Willy Webster. 'And what was it, pray? Has Tweed been nominated for the Presidency, or has A.T. Stewart proved to be nothing but a dead head? Has the Commodore issued a new lot of central stock, or has John Morrissy joined the Particular Baptists? Speak the word, Brighthurst, and ease our impatient minds.' 'What I speak of is English news from the latest files of London papers, which were delivered this evening, my dear Willy,' said Brighthurst quietly. 'European news!' cried Webster. 'Has Queen Victoria sent for Sam Ward at last, or is the Prince Imperial going to be united to Queen Isabella, and thus consolidate the two thrones?' 'The news does not treat of any such important personages or subjects,' said Brighthurst; 'it simply sends us details of the English murder, information of which was cabled some days ago.' 'A murder!' cried Bryan Duval. 'You cannot possibly have the joyful news for me that the victim was a tailor living in the neighbourhood of Bond-street?' 'No,' said Brighthurst with a slight smile; 'nor was the crime committed in London. The victim was an American gentleman of the name of Foster.'