"Secure him!" I said indolently--"And pay him _two_ hundred guineas! So shall all the world hear of me!" "When you have been paragraphed thoroughly," went on Rimânez--"the next move will be a dash into what is called 'swagger' society. This must be done cautiously and by degrees. You must be presented at the first Levée of the season, and later on, I will get you an invitation to some great lady's house, where you will meet the Prince of Wales privately at dinner. If you can oblige or please His Royal Highness in any way so much the better for you,--he is at least the most popular royalty in Europe, so it should not be difficult to you to make yourself agreeable. Following upon this event, you must purchase a fine country seat, and have _that_ fact 'paragraphed'--then you can rest and look round,--Society will have taken you up, and you will find yourself in the swim!" I laughed heartily,--well entertained by his fluent discourse. "I should not," he resumed--"propose your putting yourself to the trouble of getting into Parliament. That is no longer necessary to the career of a gentleman. But I should strongly recommend your winning the Derby." "I daresay you would!" I answered mirthfully--"It's an admirable suggestion,--but not very easy to follow!" "If you wish to win the Derby," he rejoined quietly--"you _shall_ win it. I'll guarantee both horse and jockey!" Something in his decisive tone impressed me, and I leaned forward to study his features more closely. "Are you a worker of miracles?" I asked him jestingly--"Do you mean it?" "Try me!" he responded--"Shall I enter a horse for you?" "You can't; it's too late," I said. "You would need to be the devil himself to do it. Besides I don't care about racing."