we go to the jeweler's. Why not? A fair division of
the spoils--fifty louis for myself, fifty louis for a bracelet for
mademoiselle. And then--"

He broke off suddenly. His gesture was almost dramatic.

"I am forgotten!" he cried, holding out his hand to
Hunterleys,--"forgotten already! Sir Henry, there are many who forget me
as a humble Minister of my master, but there are few who forget me
physically. I am Selingman. We met in Berlin, six years ago. You came
with your great Foreign Secretary."

"I remember you perfectly," Hunterleys assured him, as he submitted to
the newcomer's vigorous handshake. "We shall meet again, I trust."

Selingman thrust his arm through Hunterleys' as though to prevent his
departure.

"You shall not run away!" he declared. "I introduce both of you--Mr.
Draconmeyer, the great Anglo-German banker; Sir Henry Hunterleys, the
English politician--to Mademoiselle Estelle Nipon, of the Opera House.
Now we all know one another. We shall be good friends. We will share
that bottle of champagne."

"One bottle between four!" mademoiselle laughed, poutingly. "And I am
parched! I have taught monsieur baccarat. I am exhausted."

"A magnum!" Selingman ordered in a voice of thunder, shaking his fist at
the startled waiter. "We seat ourselves here at the round table.
Mademoiselle, we will drink champagne together until the eyes of all of
us sparkle as yours do. We will drink champagne until we do not believe
that there is such a thing as losing at games or in life. We will drink
champagne until we all four believe that we have been brought up
together, that we are bosom friends of a lifetime. See, this is how we
will place ourselves. Mademoiselle, if the others make love to you, take
no notice. It is I who have put fifty louis in one pocket for that
bracelet. Do not trust Sir Henry there; he has a reputation."

As usual, the overpowering Selingman had his way. Neither Draconmeyer
nor Hunterleys attempted to escape. They took their places at the table.
They drank champagne and they listened to Selingman. All the time he
talked, save when mademoiselle interrupted him. Seated upon a chair
which seemed absurdly inadequate, his great stomach with its vast
expanse of white waistcoat in full view, his short legs doubled up
beneath him, he beamed upon them all with a smile which never failed.

"It is a wonderful place," he declared, as he lifted his glass for the
fifth time. "We will drink to it, this Monte