We made our way through crowded thoroughfares to the Pantheon and were in the thicket of vast columns when some one touched my arm. Who was this man with a blue monocle over his right eye, whose look was so familiar? Ah, to be sure, it was Muggs. [Illustration: 0133] Again his mustache had disappeared, as had my hat and coat and the old suit of clothes, and how that blue monocle and the new attire and the smooth upper lip had changed the whole effect of Muggs! Evidently the man was prosperous and entering a new career. How does it happen that he has come in my way again, I asked myself, and then I remembered that he knew that I was to be there. What was I to expect now?--violence or---- He smiled. “Charming day, isn't it?” he said, in his most agreeable tone. He had neatly and deliberately removed his monocle as he spoke. “Very! I suppose that stained-glass window of yours is a memorial to Wilton?” He only smiled. “As a European you're a great success,” I went on. “Beginning a new life from the ground up,” said he, and added, with a glance at the great bronze doors, “Isn't this a wonderful place?” “Yes, it was intended for a mammoth safe where reputations could be stored and embellished and kept, but it didn't work.” “They cracked it and got away with the reputations,” said he, with a smile. “Exactly! In my opinion every man should have his own private pantheon, and see that his reputation is as strong as the safe. It's the discrepancy that's dangerous. People won't allow a reputation to stay where it does not belong.” He stepped closer and said, in a confidential tone, “I'm trying to improve mine, and I wish you would help me.” “How?” “Come to a little dinner that I am giving and say a good word for me when you can.” “Are you trying to marry Mrs. Mullet?” “Yes, I've fallen in love, and, as God's my witness, I'm living honest.” “Muggs, I'll help you to get a reputation, but I won't help you to get a wife,” I said. “You must get the reputation first, and it will take you a long time. You'll have to try to pay back the money you've taken and keep it up long enough to prove your good faith.” Muggs's plan was quite apparent. He wanted an all-around treaty of peace. He was still levying blackmail; the thing he demanded was not cash, but a character. “That's exactly what I hope to do,” he explained. “I shall have all kinds of money, and I propose to square every account.” “That's all right, provided Mrs. Mullet knows the whole plan and is willing to undertake the responsibility.” He looked into my eyes, and said clearly in his smile: “You're the worst ass of a lawyer that I ever saw in my life. I've tried to be decent, and you've wiped your boots on me. Wait and see what happens now.” All that seemed to be in his smile, but not a word of it passed his lips. He neatly adjusted the blue monocle and lifted his hat and said “Good afternoon,” and walked away.