don't think it has done me much
harm."

They had lunch at Romano's, where Barnes drank a good deal of Chianti
and became full of confidence in his future.

"That's where it is, Fane. A fellow like you is lucky. But that's no
reason why I shouldn't be lucky in my turn. My life has been a failure
so far. Yes, I'm not going to attempt to deny it. There are lots of
things in my life that might have been different. You'll understand when
I say different I mean pleasanter for everybody all round, myself
included. But that's all finished. With this fruit-farm--well, of course
it's no good grumbling and running down good things--those apples we saw
were big enough to make anybody's fortune. Cawdashit, Fane, I can see
myself sitting under one of those apple-trees and counting the bloody
fruit falling down at my feet and me popping them into baskets and
selling them--where was it he said we sold them?" Barnes poured out more
Chianti. "Really, it seems a sin on a fine day like this to be hanging
about in London. Well, I've had some sprees in old London, and that's a
fact; so I'm not going to start running it down now. If I hadn't lost
that watch-bracelet, I wouldn't give a damn for anybody. Good old
London," he went on meditatively. "Yes, I've had some times--good times
and bad times--and here I am."

He gradually became incoherent, and Michael thought it would be as well
to escort him back to Leppard Street and impress on him once again that
he must remove all his things immediately.

"You'll have to be quick with your packing-up. You ought to sail next
week. I shall go and see about your passage to-morrow."

They drove back to Leppard Street in a taxi, and as they got out Barnes
said emphatically:

"You know what it is, Fane? Cawdashit! I feel like a marquis when I'm
out with you, and it I hadn't have lost that watch-bracelet I'd feel
like the bloody German Emperor. That's me. All up in the air one minute,
and yet worry myself barmy over a little thing like a watch the next."

"Hullo!" he exclaimed, looking up the road as their taxi drove off.
"Somebody else is playing at being a millionaire."

Another taxi was driving into Leppard Street.

Michael had already opened the front door, and he told Barnes not to
hang about on the steps. Barnes turned reluctantly from his inspection
of the new taxi's approach. It pulled up at Number One, and three men
jumped out.

"That's your man," Michael heard one of them say, and in