"My dear sir, you have paid," Hewitt said, with a smile. "You paid in advance. It was a bargain, wasn't it, that I should do your business if you would help me in mine? Very well, a bargain's a bargain, and we've both performed our parts. And you mustn't be offended at what I said just now." "That I won't. But as to that Raggy Steggles, once those heats are over to-morrow, I'll ---- well ----!" * * * * * It was on the following Sunday week that Martin Hewitt, in his rooms in London, turned over his paper and read, under the head "Padfield Annual 135 Yards Handicap," this announcement: "Final Heat: Crockett, first; Willis, second; Trewby, third: Owen, 0; Howell, 0. A runaway win by nearly three yards." [Illustration: ZIG-ZAGS AT THE ZOO By Arthur Morrison and J A Shepherd] XXII.--ZIG-ZAG SAURIAN. People, as a rule, are not fond of lizards, and the larger the lizards the less people like them; until the crocodile and the alligator, largest of all, are received with positive antipathy, and rarely treated as pets. People make many excuses for such an attitude toward lizards; calling them ugly, crawly, slimy, scaly, and so forth. I have an hypothesis that envy is a large element in this human antipathy. For after all, if we will but confess it, the alligator's is rather an enviable lot. To lie all day in a bed of warm, soft mud--really, it is a pleasant thing. To be able, without inconvenience, to postpone dinner for a fortnight--that is attractively economical. To enjoy the advantages of six eyelids and the resulting capability in winks--there is something even in this. But chiefly, envy for the crocodile has got into the grain of humanity by heredity from those ancients who believed everything that Plutarch told them in his book, _De Iside et Osiride_. The crocodile, he informs us therein, can render itself invisible at will, everything else being perfectly visible to it the while. This is a noble privilege, and worthy of the most respectful envy. Jack the Giant Killer performed the trick by means of a cloak; but Plutarch's crocodile does it "merely by the power of the heye," as the street-corner mesmerist has it--does it "like winking," in fact. The mechanism is very simple, and quite easy to understand. It consists only of a membrane to draw over the eye; and as the eye it is drawn over is the crocodile's, it is obvious that he becomes invisible at once. His ability to see others is provided for by the ingenious expedient of having the membrane transparent--and there you are. What could be simpler? Anybody who can run to a transparent membrane fitting for his eyes may dodge his creditors at will, thanks to the tip of the benevolent and ingenious Plutarch. [Illustration: THE CROCODILE-CREASE.] [Illustration: A PASSING PLEASANTRY.] [Illustration: "'EAR THAT, BILL?"] [Illustration: SHORT FROCKS.]