a finger, as if reproving his director. "I will not
disguise from you," he murmured, "that there is friction between us
and--the enemy; you know our position too well--just a little too well,
eh? 'A nod's as good as a wink.'"

His diplomatic eyes flattered Scorrier, who passed a hand over his
brow--and said: "Of course."

"Pippin doesn't hit it off with them. Between ourselves, he's a leetle
too big for his boots. You know what it is when a man in his position
gets a sudden rise!"

Scorrier caught himself searching on the floor for a sight of Hemmings'
boots; he raised his eyes guiltily. The secretary continued: "We don't
hear from him quite as often as we should like, in fact."

To his own surprise Scorrier murmured: "It's a silent place!"

The secretary smiled. "Very good! Mr. Scorrier says, sir, it's a silent
place; ha-ha! I call that very good!" But suddenly a secret irritation
seemed to bubble in him; he burst forth almost violently: "He's no
business to let it affect him; now, has he? I put it to you, Mr.
Scorrier, I put it to you, sir!"

But Scorrier made no reply, and soon after took his leave: he had been
asked to convey a friendly hint to Pippin that more frequent letters
would be welcomed. Standing in the shadow of the Royal Exchange, waiting
to thread his way across, he thought: 'So you must have noise, must
you--you've got some here, and to spare....'

On his arrival in the new world he wired to Pippin asking if he might
stay with him on the way up country, and received the answer: "Be sure
and come."

A week later he arrived (there was now a railway) and found Pippin
waiting for him in a phaeton. Scorrier would not have known the place
again; there was a glitter over everything, as if some one had touched it
with a wand. The tracks had given place to roads, running firm,
straight, and black between the trees under brilliant sunshine; the
wooden houses were all painted; out in the gleaming harbour amongst the
green of islands lay three steamers, each with a fleet of busy boats; and
here and there a tiny yacht floated, like a sea-bird on the water. Pippin
drove his long-tailed horses furiously; his eyes brimmed with subtle
kindness, as if according Scorrier a continual welcome. During the two
days of his stay Scorrier never lost that sense of glamour. He had every
opportunity for observing the grip Pippin had over everything. The wooden
doors and walls of his bungalow kept out no soun