Later, when we had concluded the usual and never-altering meal provided by the Great Northern Railway Company--I often wonder who are the culinary artists who devise those menus which face us on all English trains--we returned to our compartment to stretch ourselves in our corners and to smoke. Grantham we had passed and we were approaching Peterborough, the old fen town with the ancient cathedral. In French my friend the banker kept up a continuous chatter, even though I was tired and drowsy. He had told me much concerning himself, and I, in turn, told him of my profession and where I lived. I did not tell him very much, for I am one of those persons who prefer to keep themselves to themselves. I seldom give strangers any information. After a time, indeed, I tired of him. At last we entered King's Cross--a little late, as is usual on a long run. "I have to get to the Carlton," my companion said. "Of course there will be no taxis. But are not you in London very badly served in that respect? We, in Paris, have taxis at any hour. When your stations close I find always a great difficulty in getting a conveyance. By the way! Could you not dine with me to-morrow night?" "I am sorry," I replied. "But I have arranged to visit my uncle in Orchard Street." Two minutes later the train drew up slowly, and wishing my fellow-traveller _bon soir_, I expressed a hope that one day, ere long, we might meet again. I had not given him my card, as our acquaintance was only upon chance, and--well, after all, he was only a passing foreigner. Half an hour after I had stepped from the train, I was back again in my cosy little flat in Rivermead Mansions, after a very strenuous day. On the hall table lay a letter from my solicitors. I tore it open eagerly and read that they regretted to inform me that certain investments I had made a year before, with the money which my aunt had left me, had not realized my expectations. In other words, I had lost the whole of my money! All I possessed was the salary paid me by Messrs. Francis and Goldsmith. My heart stood still. The blow staggered me. Yet, after all, I had been a fool--a fact which my solicitors had hinted at the time. I crushed the letter in my hand and passed on into the little sitting-room. Harry had gone out to a dance, and had left a scribbled note on the table saying that he had his latchkey and would not be back until two or so. He wished me "cheerio." So having smoked a final cigarette I retired. Next day I went to the office in Great George Street and reported upon the business I had done in York--and good business it was, too, with the Municipal Electric Supply--and in the evening I returned across Hammersmith Bridge at about six o'clock.