MOHACKSFIELD"

Eastminster House was ablaze. A large dinner had been fixed for this
October evening, and only just before half-past eight Jasmine entered
the drawing-room to receive her guests. She had completely forgotten
the dinner till very late in the afternoon, when she observed
preparations for which she had given instructions the day before. She
was about to leave the house upon the mission which had drawn her
footsteps in the same direction as those of Ian Stafford, when the
butler came to her for information upon some details. These she gave
with an instant decision which was part of her equipment, and then,
when the butler had gone, she left the house on foot to take a cab at
the corner of Piccadilly.

When she returned home, the tables in the dining-room were decorated,
the great rooms were already lighted, and the red carpet was being laid
down at the door. The footmen looked up with surprise as she came up
the steps, and their eyes followed her as she ascended the staircase
with marked deliberation.

"Well, that's style for you," said the first footman. "Takin' an airin'
on shanks' hosses."

"And a quarter of an hour left to put on the tirara," sniggered the
second footman. "The lot is asked for eight-thirty."

"Swells, the bunch, windin' up with the brother of an Emperor--'struth!"

"I'll bet the Emperor's brother ain't above takin' a tip about shares
on the Rand, me boy."

"I'll bet none of 'em ain't. That's why they come--not forgetting th'
grub and the fizz."

"What price a title for the Byng Baas one of these days! They like tips
down there where the old Markis rumbles through his beard--and a lot of
hands to be greased. And grease it costs a lot, political grease does.
But what price a title--Sir Rudyard Byng, Bart., wot oh!"

"Try another shelf higher up, and it's more like it. Wot a head for a
coronet 'ers! W'y--"

But the voice of the butler recalled them from the fields of
imagination, and they went with lordly leisure upon the business of the
household.

Socially this was to be the day of Jasmine's greatest triumph. One of
the British royal family was, with the member of another great reigning
family, honouring her table--though the ladies of neither were to be
present; and this had been a drop of chagrin in her cup. She had been
unaware of the gossip there had been of late,--though it was unlikely
the great ladies would have known of it--and she would have been slow
to believe