Cramond would soon be at blows with the police of Edinburgh! Byfield and
I, running the semi-inanimate Rowley before us, made good despatch, and
did not stop till we were several streets away, and the hubbub was
already softened by distance.

"Well, sir," said he, "we are well out of that! Did ever any one see
such a pack of young barbarians?"

"We are properly punished, Mr. Byfield; we had no business there," I
replied.

"No, indeed, sir, you may well say that! Outrageous! And my ascension
announced for Friday, you know!" cried the aeronaut. "A pretty scandal!
Byfield the aeronaut at the police-court! Tut-tut! Will you be able to
get your rascal home, sir? Allow me to offer you my card. I am staying
at Walker and Poole's Hotel, sir, where I should be pleased to see you."

"The pleasure would be mutual, sir," said I, but I must say my heart was
not in my words, and as I watched Mr. Byfield departing I desired
nothing less than to pursue the acquaintance.

One more ordeal remained for me to pass. I carried my senseless load
upstairs to our lodging, and was admitted by the landlady in a tall
white nightcap and with an expression singularly grim. She lighted us
into the sitting-room; where, when I had seated Rowley in a chair, she
dropped me a cast-iron curtsy. I smelt gunpowder on the woman. Her voice
tottered with emotion.

"I give ye nottice, Mr. Ducie," said she. "Dacent folks' houses...."

And at that apparently temper cut off her utterance, and she took
herself off without more words.

I looked about me at the room, the goggling Rowley, the extinguished
fire; my mind reviewed the laughable incidents of the day and night; and
I laughed out loud to myself--lonely and cheerless laughter!...

[_At this point the Author's_ MS. _breaks off: what follows is the work
of_ MR. A.T. QUILLER-COUCH.]

CHAPTER XXXI

EVENTS OF THURSDAY: THE ASSEMBLY BALL

But I awoke to the chill reminder of dawn, and found myself no master
even of cheerless mirth. I had supped with the _Senatus Academicus_ of
Cramond: so much my head informed me. It was Thursday, the day of the
Assembly Ball. But the ball was fixed by the card for 8 P.M., and I had,
therefore, twelve mortal hours to wear through as best I could.
Doubtless it was this reflection which prompted me to leap out of bed
instanter and ring for Mr. Rowley and my shaving water.

Mr. Rowley, it appeared, was in no such hurry. I tugged a second time at
the b