nt
of five-sous French stamps. Some one, I reasoned, must write very
regularly from France to the neighbourhood of Stallbridge-le-Carthew.
Could it be Norris? On one stamp I made out an initial C; upon a second
I got as far as CH; beyond which point, the postmark used was in every
instance undecipherable. CH, when you consider that about a quarter of
the towns in France begin with "chateau," was an insufficient clue; and
I promptly annexed the plainest of the collection in order to consult
the post-office.

The wretched infant took me in the fact. "Naughty man, to 'teal my
'tamp!" she cried; and when I would have brazened it off with a denial,
recovered and displayed the stolen article.

My position was now highly false; and I believe it was in mere pity
that Mrs. Higgs came to my rescue with a welcome proposition. If the
gentleman was really interested in stamps, she said, probably supposing
me a monomaniac on the point, he should see Mr. Denman's album. Mr.
Denman had been collecting forty years, and his collection was said
to be worth a mint of money. "Agnes," she went on, "if you were a kind
little girl, you would run over to the 'All, tell Mr. Denman there's
a connaisseer in the 'ouse, and ask him if one of the young gentlemen
might bring the album down."

"I should like to see his exchanges too," I cried, rising to the
occasion. "I may have some of mine in my pocket-book and we might
trade."

Half an hour later Mr. Denman arrived himself with a most unconscionable
volume under his arm. "Ah, sir," he cried, "when I 'eard you was a
collector, I dropped all. It's a saying of mine, Mr. Dodsley, that
collecting stamps makes all collectors kin. It's a bond, sir; it creates
a bond."

Upon the truth of this, I cannot say; but there is no doubt that
the attempt to pass yourself off for a collector falsely creates a
precarious situation.

"Ah, here's the second issue!" I would say, after consulting the legend
at the side. "The pink--no, I mean the mauve--yes, that's the beauty of
this lot. Though of course, as you say," I would hasten to add, "this
yellow on the thin paper is more rare."

Indeed I must certainly have been detected, had I not plied Mr. Denman
in self-defence with his favourite liquor--a port so excellent that it
could never have ripened in the cellar of the Carthew Arms, but must
have been transported, under cloud of night, from the neighbouring
vaults of the great house. At each threat of exposure