rhaps, thousands of pounds, was completed at
the cost of a few pounds between breakfast and dinner. In other words,
Bombay aroused New York to action by means of a flash of electricity
within twenty-four hours."

"Phil," remarked Mrs Maylands, with a sigh, "don't you think that man
has now made almost all the discoveries that it is possible to make?"

"Why, no, mother, I think he is only on the threshold of discovery yet.
The thought has sometimes come into my mind with tremendous power, that
as God is infinite, and His knowledge infinite, there is, as it were, a
necessity that we shall go on learning something new for ever!--But that
is too deep a subject to enter on just now," said Phil, rising, "for I
must go and send off my telegram to May--she will be anxious to hear
about you, poor girl. You must not be troubled when you see how the
roses have faded from her cheeks. She is in good enough health, but I
fear the telegraph service is too heavy for her, and the City air is not
so bracing as that of the west of Ireland."

Mrs Maylands was quite prepared for the change referred to, for she
knew, what Phil did not know, that it was neither the telegraph nor the
City that had robbed May of the bloom of youth and health.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

DESCRIBES AN INTERVIEW AND A RENCONTRE.

One frosty winter afternoon Sir James Clubley sat in his chambers,
having finished dinner, and toasted his toes while he sipped his wine
and glanced languidly over the _Times_.

Sir James was a lazy, good-natured man, in what is sometimes styled easy
circumstances. Being lazy, and having nothing to do, he did nothing--
nothing, that is, in the way of work. He found the world enjoyable, and
enjoyed it. He never ran to excess--in truth he never ran at all,
either literally or figuratively, but always ate, drank, slept, read,
and amused himself in moderation. In politics, being nothing in
particular, he was wont to say he was a Liberal-Conservative, if
anything, as that happy medium, in which truth is said, though not
proved, to lie, enabled him to agree with anybody. Everybody liked him,
except perhaps a few fiery zealots who seemed uncertain whether to
regard him with indignation, pity, or contempt. It mattered not to
which feeling the zealots leaned, Sir James smiled on them all alike.

"That foolish fellow is going to be late," he muttered, glancing over
his paper at the clock on the chimney-piece.

The foolish fellow r