ecognition. Several of them have been saved
from absolute want by his generosity."

"That is the gentleman," whispered the other, indicating Jawkins, who
was smoking in apparent unconsciousness and watching a game of pool. "I
saw him just now talking with the famous beauty, Mrs. Oswald Carey."

"With Mrs. Carey?" exclaimed the King. "I have never heard her speak of
him." The incident disturbed him little. He was too much absorbed by the
idea of Jawkins's wealth. He hoped to be able to borrow some money from
him. He turned to Paget and charged him to see that Jawkins was invited
to the drawing-room that evening.

Meanwhile Mrs. Carey had retired to her own chamber, which she was
pacing in some perturbation of spirit. The presence of Jawkins was a
veritable spectre at the feast. The expression of his face haunted her.
She felt certain that he meant mischief. What was it he purposed to do?
He had asked to see the King. Probably he had discovered that it was she
who betrayed the conspiracy to the government, and was determined to
revenge himself by exposing her. She smiled at the thought, and the
picture rose before her of the monarch pouring out protestations of love
at her feet on the night when that band of gallant gentlemen were laying
down their lives at Aldershot to restore his throne. If this was all
that Jawkins had wherewith to prejudice her with the King, she need not
fear the astute manager. But she could not feel wholly free from dread.
She was aware that Jarley Jawkins was not a man to be trifled with.

She went down to the parlor where the royal reception was to be held, so
as to be in time to receive her own guests. It was early, and no one had
yet arrived. The windows were open in order to cool the atmosphere. The
floor had been covered with white linen drugget. At one end of the room,
on a dais, stood a throne. A grand piano was in a corner. A colored
waiter put his head inside the door, and, announcing that the musicians
had arrived, inquired if they were to tune up at once.

"You must see the Lord Chamberlain," answered Mrs. Carey. She felt sad
this evening, and the tawdry character of this entertainment was
contrasted in her mind with the traditions of drawing-rooms at
Buckingham Palace.

A cornet-player, a fiddler, and a female pianist entered, and the squeak
of their instruments in process of reconstruction soon jarred upon her
nerves. She started to leave the room, but encountered the Princess
H