ly as it might be. An ill-assorted house party is bad enough;
to bring the wrong men together on the moors is sufficient to spoil an
otherwise enjoyable holiday; but to ask Jones (who doesn't smoke, who
is wrapped up in politics, reads his leader in the _Standard_ every
morning, and who has played whist every afternoon with the same men at
his club for the last ten years) and De Vere Robinson (who never reads
anything save the _Referee_ and the _Sportsman_, who detests whist, and
who smokes the strongest Trichinopolis day and night) to spend three
weeks cooped up on a yacht would be like putting a kitten and a
cat-killing fox-terrier into a corn-bin and expecting them to have a
happy time together. Browne, however, knew his business, and his
party, in this particular instance, consisted of the Duchess of
Matlock, wife of the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and her
two pretty daughters, the Ladies Iseult and Imogen; Miss Verney, the
beauty of the season; the Honourable Silas Dobson, the American
Ambassador; his wife and daughter; George Barrington-Marsh, of the 1st
Life; and little Jimmy Foote, a man of no permanent address, but of
more than usual shrewdness, who managed to make a good income out of
his friends by the exercise of that peculiar talent for pleasing which
rendered him indispensable whenever and wherever his fellow-creatures
were gathered together. In addition to those I have mentioned there
was a man whose interest in this story is so great that it is necessary
he should be described at somewhat greater length.

Should you deem it worth your while to make inquiries at any of the
Chancelleries in order to ascertain whether they happen to be
acquainted with a certain Monsieur Felix Maas, you would probably be
surprised to learn that he is as well known to them as--well--shall we
say the Sultan of Turkey himself? though it would be difficult to
mention in exactly what capacity. One thing is quite certain; it would
be no easy task to find a man possessed of such peculiar
characteristics as this retiring individual. At first glance his name
would appear to settle his nationality once and for all. He would tell
you, however, that he has no right to be considered a Dutchman. At the
same time he would probably omit to tell you to which kingdom or empire
he ascribes the honour of his birth. If you travelled with him you
would discover that he speaks the language of every country west of the
Ural Moun