tely settled himself in the most comfortable of many
comfortable chairs.

"So we are to see wonders tonight?"

"Fresh material for your autobiography," remarked Faull.

"Ah, you should not have mentioned my unfortunate book. An old public
servant is merely amusing himself in his retirement, Mr. Backhouse. You
have no cause for alarm--I have studied in the school of discretion."

"I am not alarmed. There can be no possible objection to your publishing
whatever you please."

"You are most kind," said the old man, with a cunning smile.

"Trent is not coming tonight," remarked Mrs. Jameson, throwing a curious
little glance at her brother.

"I never thought he would. It's not in his line."

"Mrs. Trent, you must understand," she went on, addressing the
ex-magistrate, "has placed us all under a debt of gratitude. She has
decorated the old lounge hall upstairs most beautifully, and has secured
the services of the sweetest little orchestra."

"But this is Roman magnificence."

"Backhouse thinks the spirits should be treated with more deference,"
laughed Faull.

"Surely, Mr. Backhouse--a poetic environment..."

"Pardon me. I am a simple man, and always prefer to reduce things to
elemental simplicity. I raise no opposition, but I express my opinion.
Nature is one thing, and art is another."

"And I am not sure that I don't agree with you," said the ex-magistrate.
"An occasion like this ought to be simple, to guard against the
possibility of deception--if you will forgive my bluntness, Mr.
Backhouse."

"We shall sit in full light," replied Backhouse, "and every opportunity
will be given to all to inspect the room. I shall also ask you to submit
me to a personal examination."

A rather embarrassed silence followed. It was broken by the arrival of
two more guests, who entered together. These were Prior, the prosperous
City coffee importer, and Lang, the stockjobber, well known in his own
circle as an amateur prestidigitator. Backhouse was slightly acquainted
with the latter. Prior, perfuming the room with the faint odour of wine
and tobacco smoke, tried to introduce an atmosphere of joviality into
the proceedings. Finding that no one seconded his efforts, however, he
shortly subsided and fell to examining the water colours on the walls.
Lang, tall, thin, and growing bald, said little, but stared at Backhouse
a good deal.

Coffee, liqueurs, and cigarettes were now brought in. Everyone partook,
except Lang and the