for though it had a thrilling plot, and was
full of well-connected people, it had apparently been contrived to throw
no light on anything whatever. He looked at the author's name; everyone
was highly recommending it. He began thinking, and staring at the fire .
. . .

Looking up, he saw Antonia's second brother, a young man in the Rifles,
bending over him with sunny cheeks and lazy smile, clearly just a little
drunk.

"Congratulate you, old chap! I say, what made you grow that b-b-eastly
beard?"

Shelton grinned.

"Pillbottle of the Duchess!" read young Dennant, taking up the book.
"You been reading that? Rippin', is n't it?"

"Oh, ripping!" replied Shelton.

"Rippin' plot! When you get hold of a novel you don't want any rot
about--what d'you call it?--psychology, you want to be amused."

"Rather!" murmured Shelton.

"That's an awfully good bit where the President steals her diamonds
There's old Benjy! Hallo, Benjy!"

"Hallo, Bill, old man!"

This Benjy was a young, clean-shaven creature, whose face and voice and
manner were a perfect blend of steel and geniality.

In addition to this young man who was so smooth and hard and cheery, a
grey, short-bearded gentleman, with misanthropic eyes, called Stroud,
came up; together with another man of Shelton's age, with a moustache and
a bald patch the size of a crown-piece, who might be seen in the club any
night of the year when there was no racing out of reach of London.

"You know," began young Dennant, "that this bounder"--he slapped the
young man Benjy on the knee--"is going to be spliced to-morrow. Miss
Casserol--you know the Casserols--Muncaster Gate."

"By Jove!" said Shelton, delighted to be able to say something they would
understand.

"Young Champion's the best man, and I 'm the second best. I tell you
what, old chap, you 'd better come with me and get your eye in; you won't
get such another chance of practice. Benjy 'll give you a card."

"Delighted!" murmured Benjy.

"Where is it?"

"St. Briabas; two-thirty. Come and see how they do the trick. I'll call
for you at one; we'll have some lunch and go together"; again he patted
Benjy's knee.

Shelton nodded his assent; the piquant callousness of the affair had made
him shiver, and furtively he eyed the steely Benjy, whose suavity had
never wavered, and who appeared to take a greater interest in some
approaching race than in his coming marriage. But Shelton knew from his
own sen