“Perhaps Feder?” “Yes, that's it. Just send some one to show me the way, and I 'll be back immediately. I suspect my unlucky breakfast must be prorogued to luncheon-time.” “Not a bit of it!” cried a fine, fresh-looking, handsome man, who entered the room with a riding-whip in his hand; “come in and take share of mine.” “He has to go over to Feder's for the bags, Sir Joseph,” whispered the attaché, submissively. “Send the porter,--send Jasper,--send any one you like. Come along,” said he, drawing his arm within Tony's. “You 've not been in Italy before, and your first impression ought to be favorable; so I 'll introduce you to a Mont Cenis trout.” “And I 'll profit by the acquaintance,” said Tony. “I have the appetite of a wolf.” CHAPTER XLV. A SHOCK FOR TONY If Tony Butler took no note of time as he sat at breakfast with Sir Joseph, he was only sharing the fortune of every man who ever found himself in that companionship. From one end of Europe to the other his equal could not be found. It was not alone that he had stores of conversation for the highest capacities and the most cultivated minds, but he possessed that thorough knowledge of life so interesting to men of the world, and with it that insight into character which is so often the key to the mystery of statecraft; and with all these he had a geniality and a winning, grace of look, voice, and demeanor that sent one from his presence with the thought that if the world could but compass a few more like him, one would not change the planet for the brightest in the firmament. Breakfast over, they smoked; then they had a game at billiards; after that they strolled into the garden, and had some pistol-firing. Here Tony acquitted himself creditably, and rose in his host's esteem; for the minister liked a man who could do anything--no matter what--very well. Tony, too, gained on him. His own fine joyous nature understood at once the high-hearted spirit of a young fellow who bad no affectations about him, thoroughly at his ease without presumption; and yet, through that gentleman element so strong in him, never transgressing the limits of a freedom so handsomely accorded him. While the hours rolled over thus delightfully, a messenger returned to say that he had been at each of the great hotels, but could find no trace of Colonel Chamberlayne, nor of the missing bags. “Send Moorcap,” said the minister. Moorcap was away two hours, and came back with the same story. “I suspect how it is,” said Tony. “Chamberlayne has been obliged to start suddenly, and has carried off my bags with his own; but when he discovers his mistake, he 'll drop them at Naples.”