ry was
destined to meet with a grievous disappointment, for out of Bottles
came no good thing. For the most part of the dinner he sat silent, only
speaking when directly addressed, and then answering so much at random
that the Under-Secretary quickly came to the conclusion that Sir
Eustace's brother was either a fool or that he had drunk too much.

Sir Eustace himself saw that his brother's taciturnity had spoilt his
little dinner, and his temper was not improved thereby. He was not
accustomed to have his dinners spoiled, and felt that, so far as the
Under-Secretary was concerned, he had put himself into a false position.

"My dear George," he said in a tone of bland exasperation when they had
got back to the Albany, "I wonder what can be the matter with you? I
told Atherleigh that you would be able to post him up thoroughly about
all this Bechuana mess, and he could not get a word out of you."

His brother absently filled his pipe before he answered:

"The Bechuanas? Oh, yes, I know all about them. I lived among them for a
year."

"Then why on earth didn't you tell him what you knew? You put me in
rather a false position."

"I am very sorry, Eustace," he answered humbly. "I will go and see him
if you like, and explain the thing to him to-morrow. The fact of the
matter is, I was thinking of something else."

Sir Eustace interrogated him with a look.

"I was thinking," he went on slowly, "about Mad--about Lady Croston."

"Oh!"

"I went to see her this afternoon, and I think, I hope, that I am going
to marry her."

If Bottles expected that this great news would be received by his
elder brother as such news ought to be received--with congratulatory
rejoicing--he was destined to be disappointed.

"Good heavens!" ejaculated Sir Eustace shortly, letting his eyeglass
drop.

"Why do you say that, Eustace?" Bottles asked uneasily.

"Because--because," answered his brother in the emphatic tone which was
his equivalent for strong language, "you must be mad to think of such a
thing."

"Why must I be mad?"

"Because you, still a young man, with all your life before you,
deliberately propose to tie yourself up to a middle-aged and _passee_
woman--she is extremely _passee_ by daylight, let me tell you--who
has already treated you like a dog, and is burdened with a couple of
children, and who, if she marries again, will bring you very little
except her luxurious tastes. But I expected this. I thought she would
try