t of the
larger carnivores, to say nothing of rhinoceroses and bull bison, roaming
at large and unfed in the heart of London, was not one which permitted of
prolonged conferences. The Government of the day, which from its
tendency to be a few hours behind the course of events had been nicknamed
the Government of the afternoon, was obliged to intervene with
promptitude and decision. A strong force of Bluejackets was despatched
to Regent's Park to take over the temporarily abandoned duties of the
strikers. Bluejackets were chosen in preference to land forces, partly
on account of the traditional readiness of the British Navy to go
anywhere and do anything, partly by reason of the familiarity of the
average sailor with monkeys, parrots, and other tropical fauna, but
chiefly at the urgent request of the First Lord of the Admiralty, who was
keenly desirous of an opportunity for performing some personal act of
unobtrusive public service within the province of his department.

"If he insists on feeding the infant jaguar himself, in defiance of its
mother's wishes, there may be another by-election in the north," said one
of his colleagues, with a hopeful inflection in his voice. "By-elections
are not very desirable at present, but we must not be selfish."

As a matter of fact the strike collapsed peacefully without any outside
intervention. The majority of the keepers had become so attached to
their charges that they returned to work of their own accord.

And then the nation and the newspapers turned with a sense of relief to
happier things. It seemed as if a new era of contentment was about to
dawn. Everybody had struck who could possibly want to strike or who
could possibly be cajoled or bullied into striking, whether they wanted
to or not. The lighter and brighter side of life might now claim some
attention. And conspicuous among the other topics that sprang into
sudden prominence was the pending Falvertoon divorce suit.

The Duke of Falvertoon was one of those human _hors d'oeuvres_ that
stimulate the public appetite for sensation without giving it much to
feed on. As a mere child he had been precociously brilliant; he had
declined the editorship of the _Anglian Review_ at an age when most boys
are content to have declined _mensa_, a table, and though he could not
claim to have originated the Futurist movement in literature, his
"Letters to a possible Grandson," written at the age of fourteen, had
attracted con