e,
if you can turn to good account what I am going to say next--do it, and
welcome. This scandal began in the bragging of a fellow-student of mine
at Rome. He was angry with me, and angry with another man, for laughing
at him when he declared himself to be Mrs. Robert Graywell's lover: and
he laid us a wager that we should see the woman alone in his room, that
night. We were hidden behind a curtain, and we did see her in his room.
I paid the money I had lost, and left Rome soon afterwards. The other
man refused to pay."

"On what ground?" Mr. Mool eagerly asked.

"On the ground that she wore a thick veil, and never showed her face."

"An unanswerable objection, Doctor Benjulia!"

"Perhaps it might be. I didn't think so myself. Two hours before, Mrs.
Robert Graywell and I had met in the street. She had on a dress of a
remarkable colour in those days--a sort of sea-green. And a bonnet to
match, which everybody stared at, because it was not half the size of
the big bonnets then in fashion. There was no mistaking the strange
dress or the tall figure, when I saw her again in the student's room. So
I paid the bet."

"Do you remember the name of the man who refused to pay?"

"His name was Egisto Baccani."

"Have you heard anything of him since?"

"Yes. He got into some political scrape, and took refuge, like the
rest of them, in England; and got his living, like the rest of them, by
teaching languages. He sent me his prospectus--that's how I came to know
about it."

"Have you got the prospectus?"

"Torn up, long ago."

Mr. Mool wrote down the name in his pocket-book. "There is nothing more
you can tell me?" he said.

"Nothing."

"Accept my best thanks, doctor. Good-day!"

"If you find Baccani let me know. Another drop of ale? Are you likely to
see Mrs. Gallilee soon?"

"Yes--if I find Baccani."

"Do you ever play with children?"

"I have five of my own to play with," Mr. Mool answered.

"Very well. Ask for the youngest child when you go to Mrs. Gallilee's.
We call her Zo. Put your finger on her spine--here, just below the
neck. Press on the place--so. And, when she wriggles, say, With the big
doctor's love."

Getting back to his own house, Mr. Mool was surprised to find an open
carriage at the garden gate. A smartly-dressed woman, on the front seat,
surveyed him with an uneasy look. "If you please, sir," she said, "would
you kindly tell Miss Carmina that we really mustn't wait any longer?"

The woma