ance, while it lasts, will serve for Rowley's keep and current
expenses. Before long I hope he may lift the money which lies in the
bank at his service, as he knows."

"But you'll come back, Mr. Anne?" cried the lad.

"I'm afraid it's a toss-up, my boy. Discipline, remember!"--for he was
preparing to leap out of bed there and then--"You can serve me better in
Edinburgh. All you have to do is to wait for a clear coast, and seek and
present yourself in private before Mr. T. Robbie of Castle Street, or
Miss Flora Gilchrist of Swanston Cottage. From either or both of these
you will take your instructions. Here are the addresses."

"If that's a' your need for the lad," said Mrs. McRankine, "he'll be
eating his head off: no' to say drinking." Rowley winced. "I'll tak' him
on mysel'."

"My dear woman----"

"He'll be a brand frae the burnin': and he'll do to clean the knives."

She would hear no denial. I committed the lad to her in this double
capacity; and equipped with a pair of goloshes from the wardrobe of the
late McRankine, sallied forth upon the rain-swept street.

The card of admission directed me to Buccleuch Place, a little off
George Square; and here I found a wet rag of a crowd gathered about a
couple of lanterns and a striped awning. Beneath the awning a panel of
light fell on the plashy pavement. Already the guests were arriving. I
whipped in briskly, presented my card, and passed up a staircase
decorated with flags, evergreens, and national emblems. A venerable
flunkey waited for me at the summit. "Cloak lobby to the left, sir." I
obeyed, and exchanged my overcoat and goloshes for a circular metal
ticket. "What name, sir?" he purred over my card, as I lingered in the
vestibule for a moment to scan the ball-room and my field of action:
then, having cleared his throat, bawled suddenly, "Mr. Ducie!"

It might have been a stage direction. "_A tucket sounds. Enter the
Vicomte, disguised._" To tell the truth, this entry was a daunting
business. A dance had just come to an end; and the musicians in the
gallery had fallen to tuning their violins. The chairs arrayed along the
walls were thinly occupied, and as yet the social temperature scarce
rose to thawing-point. In fact, the second-rate people had arrived, and
from the far end of the room were nervously watching the door for
notables. Consequently my entrance drew a disquieting fire of
observation. The mirrors, reflectors, and girandoles had eyes for me;
and