"It might be rather a happy touch, sir, if I were to go round sponging for drinks." My uncle's earnestness was delightful. At this suggestion he put on his spectacles, and drew a paper from his pocket. "Let me see," said he. "Here are a few directions given me by my own doctor, Sir James Macpherson. I had to give him some inkling of what I was after, but he is sworn to secrecy. Hum--No, Roger, you are trying religiously to cure yourself, and only very occasionally must the craving so far overcome you that you actually endeavour to secure alcoholic refreshment, as Sir James calls it. No promiscuous sponging, my boy, but a sponge now and then at considerable intervals might be advisable." There was an interval of general conversation while one course succeeded another, and then Sir Francis resumed his instructions. "With the help of a few tips from Sir James and my friends at the Admiralty, I have worked out the scheme very carefully, and I must beg you to get every detail most firmly into your head, Roger. Mind you, these poisonous fellows won't hesitate to stick a knife or a bullet into you, if they have the least suspicion of you. You know that as well as I do, and I don't want you to go and throw your life away, my boy." I felt half inclined to smile, and half to do something more sentimental. He was such a dictatorial boss, and yet such a dear old fellow. "I assure you I set more value on my life even than my friends do," I said. "Well then get these instructions off by heart--and don't forget one of them! I'll give you the paper to take away with you to-night, but meanwhile here are the principal points. In the first place, your name is Hobhouse--Thomas Sylvester Hobhouse." I saw he was very pleased with this selection and asked tactfully, "How did you manage to choose such excellent names, Uncle Francis?" "I chose one name from the Red Book, another from the Peerage, and another from the Clerical Directory, so that one gets--er--a more natural and lifelike combination in that way; and yet avoids a real name. I think Thomas came from the Clerical directory--or was it the Peerage? Well, no matter, that's your name." "And my occupation?" "None: it saves prevarication and confusion. You've always been an idle dog, Roger, so I think 'a gentleman of no occupation' will be a sufficiently correct description. You are very well connected by the way." "I am aware of it," I said, with a polite bow to my uncle and cousin. But my uncle had grown too serious to appreciate such small change of conversation. "Your relatives," he continued, "are in such high positions that they are entitled to ask Dr. Rendall not to make any indiscreet enquiries of his patient regarding his family, and also to appeal with success to a certain influential gentleman in the Government for permission to dump you in these prohibited islands. You, of course, know nothing of these steps. You have just recovered from a severe attack of _delirium tremens_--"