even old Joe Cholderton's recreations----"

"He was certainly mainly an observer, but he saw some interesting things
and people." There was a renewed touch of nervousness in Mr Neeld's
manner.

"Interesting people? H'm. Then I hope he's discreet?"

"Or that Mr Neeld will be discreet for him," Iver put in. "Though I
don't know why interesting people are supposed to create a need for
discretion."

"Oh yes, you do, Iver. You know the world. Don't you be too discreet,
Neeld. Give us a taste of Joe's lighter style."

Neeld did not quite approve of his deceased and respected friend being
referred to as "Joe," nor did he desire to discuss in that company what
he had and what he had not suppressed in the Journal.

"I have used the best of my judgment," he said primly, and was surprised
to find Iver smiling at him with an amused approval.

"The least likely men break out," Lord Southend continued hopefully.
"The Baptist minister down at my place once waylaid the wife of the
Chairman of Quarter Sessions and asked her to run away with him."

"That's one of your Nonconformist stories, Southend. I never believe
them," said Iver.

"Oh, I'm not saying anything. She was a pretty woman. I just gave it as
an illustration. I happen to know it's true, because she told me
herself."

"Ah, I'd begin to listen if he'd told you," was Iver's cautious comment.

"You give us the whole of old Joe Cholderton!" was Lord Southend's final
injunction.

"Imagine if I did!" thought Neeld, beginning to feel some of the joy of
holding a secret.

Presently Southend took his leave, saying he had an engagement. To his
own surprise Neeld did not feel this to be an unwarrantable proceeding;
he sat on with Iver, and found himself cunningly encouraging his
companion to talk again about the Tristrams. The story in the Journal
had not lost its interest for him; he had read it over more than once
again; it was strange to be brought into contact, even at second-hand,
with the people whose lives and fortunes it concerned. It was evident
that Iver, on his side, had for some reason been thinking of the
Tristrams too, and he responded readily to Neeld's veiled invitation.
He described Blent for him; he told him how Lady Tristram had looked,
and that her illness was supposed to be fatal; he talked again of Harry
Tristram, her destined successor. But he said no more of his daughter.
Neeld was left without any clear idea that his companion's concern with
the