"Oh! I'm alright, or will be after a hot bath," I replied ungraciously, and left the room. When I returned he had a bottle of champagne ready for me, as a pick-me-up; and he was hard at work polishing my boots--all this by way of apology. I swallowed some wine and allowed myself to unbend. I suggested a ride to work up an appetite for breakfast. He joyously agreed, so we dressed and went out. A gallop in the park made us as jolly as a pair of sand boys. We had déjeuner at Verrey's, and then went to call on Miss Ottley. She was out, however, so I dragged my charge to an eye specialist in Harley Street. I pretended an eyeache and had my eyes thoroughly examined. The specialist could find nothing wrong with them. On the contrary, he congratulated me on a singularly perfect vision. After that we went to Weldon's club, dawdled there for a hour and then on the suggestion of Lord William Hurlingham, commonly known as "Bill," we ran down to Maidenhead for a row on the river. It was a perfect day and we enjoyed ourselves amazingly, so much so that we lost count of time and were obliged to dine at a Maidenhead hotel. It thus came about that it was after nine when we strolled to the station to return to town. There was a considerable crowd of holiday-makers on the platform, and one party gave us much amusement. These details are important to explain what followed. The party consisted of half a dozen Jews and as many Jewesses. They were all as gorgeously attired as if they had been attending a regal audience. But their conversation, conducted in tones loud enough to provoke general attention, informed us that they had been spending the day on the houseboat of a certain well-known nobleman of notorious impecuniousness.