st
elementary blunder--a vital connection missed between the
power-supplying mechanism and the cylinders containing the records. He
set it right; and nearly dead with fatigue and excitement, unlocked his
door, and called his family back. Then what triumph! What falling on
each other's necks--and what a _dejeuner_ in the Palais Royal--children
and all--paid for by the inventor's last napoleon!

All this Falloden told, and told well.

Connie could not restrain her pleasure as he came to the end of his
tale. She clapped her hands in delight.

"And when--when will it come!"

"I think Christmas will see it here. I've only told you half--and the
lesser half. It's you that have done most--far the most."

And he took out a little note-book, running through the list of visits
he had paid to her friends and correspondents in Paris, among whom the
rolls were being collected, under Chaumart's direction. The Orpheus
already had a large musical library of its own--renderings by some of
the finest artists of some of the noblest music. Beethoven, Bach, Liszt,
Chopin, Brahms, Schumann--all Otto's favourite things, as far as Connie
had been able to discover them, were in the catalogue.

Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. She put down the note-book, and
spoke in a low voice, as though her girlish joy in their common secret
had suddenly dropped.

"It must give him some pleasure--it must!" she said, slowly, but as
though she asked a question.

Falloden did not reply immediately. He rose from his seat. Nora, under a
quick impulse, gathered up a letter she had been writing, and slipped
out of the room.

"At least"--he looked away from her, straight out of the window--"I
suppose it will please him--that we tried to do something."

"How is he--really?"

He shrugged his shoulders. Connie was standing, looking down, one hand
on her chair. The afternoon had darkened; he could see only her white
brow, and the wealth of her hair which the small head carried so
lightly. Her childishness, her nearness, made his heart beat. Suddenly
she lifted her eyes.

"Do you know"--it seemed to him her voice choked a little--"how
much--you matter to him? Mrs. Mulholland and I couldn't keep him
cheerful while you were away."

He laughed.

"Well, I have only just escaped a catastrophe to-day."

She looked alarmed.

"How?"

"I offended Bateson, and he gave notice!" Connie's "Oh!" was a sound of
consternation. Bateson, the ex-scout had become