uld have done so in any case.'

'And now, Mr Hazell,' said Racksole, 'will you do me the pleasure of
lunching with me? If you agree, I should like to lunch at the place you
usually frequent.'

So it came to pass that Theodore Racksole and George Hazell, outdoor
clerk in the Customs, lunched together at 'Thomas's Chop-House', in
the city of London, upon mutton-chops and coffee. The millionaire soon
discovered that he had got hold of a keen-witted man and a person of
much insight.

'Tell me,' said Hazell, when they had reached the cigarette stage, 'are
the magazine writers anything like correct?'

'What do you mean?' asked Racksole, mystified.

'Well, you're a millionaire--"one of the best", I believe. One often
sees articles on and interviews with millionaires, which describe their
private railroad cars, their steam yachts on the Hudson, their marble
stables, and so on, and so on. Do you happen to have those things?'

'I have a private car on the New York Central, and I have a two thousand
ton schooner-yacht--though it isn't on the Hudson. It happens just now
to be on East River. And I am bound to admit that the stables of my
uptown place are fitted with marble.' Racksole laughed.

'Ah!' said Hazell. 'Now I can believe that I am lunching with a
millionaire.

It's strange how facts like those--unimportant in themselves--appeal to
the imagination. You seem to me a real millionaire now. You've given me
some personal information; I'll give you some in return. I earn three
hundred a year, and perhaps sixty pounds a year extra for overtime. I
live by myself in two rooms in Muscovy Court. I've as much money as I
need, and I always do exactly what I like outside office. As regards the
office, I do as little work as I can, on principle--it's a fight between
us and the Commissioners who shall get the best. They try to do us down,
and we try to do them down--it's pretty even on the whole. All's fair
in war, you know, and there ain't no ten commandments in a Government
office.'

Racksole laughed. 'Can you get off this afternoon?' he asked.

'Certainly,' said Hazell; 'I'll get one of my pals to sign on for me,
and then I shall be free.'

'Well,' said Racksole, 'I should like you to come down with me to the
Grand Babylon. Then we can talk over my little affair at length. And may
we go on your boat? I want to meet your crew.'

'That will be all right,' Hazell remarked. 'My two men are the idlest,
most soul-less chaps you