s established among the
Poles.

Meantime the unhappy Braintop received an indication that he must
depart. As he left the hall he brushed past the chief-clerk of his
office, who soon appeared bowing and elbowing among the guests. "What
a substitute for me!" thought Braintop bitterly; and in the belief that
this old clerk would certainly go back that night, and might undertake
his commission, he lingered near the band on the verge of the lawn. A
touch at his elbow startled him. In the half-light he discerned Emilia.
"Don't say you have seen me," were her first words. But when he gave
her the letter, she drew him aside, and read it by the aid of lighted
matches held in Braintop's hat drawing in her fervent breath to a
"Yes! yes!" at the close, while she pressed the letter to her throat.
Presently the singing began in an upper room, that had shortly before
flashed with sudden light. Braintop entreated Emilia to go in, and then
rejoiced that she had refused. They stood in a clear night-air, under
a yellowing crescent, listening to the voice of an imperial woman.
Impressed as he was, Braintop had, nevertheless, leisure to look out of
his vinous mist and notice, with some misgiving, a parading light at
a certain distance--apparently the light of cigarettes being freshly
kindled. He was too much elated to feel alarm: but "If her father were
to catch me again," he thought. And with Emilia on his arm!

Mr. Pole's chief-clerk had brought discomposing news. He was received by
an outburst of "No business, Payne; I won't have business!"

Turning to Mr. Pericles, the old clerk said: "I came rather for you,
sir, not expecting to find Mr. Pole." He was told by Mr. Pericles to
speak what he had to say: and then the guests, who had fallen slightly
back, heard a cavernous murmur; and some, whose eyes where on Mr. Pole,
observed a sharp conflict of white and red in his face.

"There, there, there, there!" went Mr. Pole. "'Hem, Pericles!" His
handkerchief was drawn out; and he became engaged, as it were, in wiping
a moisture from the palm of his hand. "Pericles, have you got pluck now?
Eh?"

Mr. Pericles had leaned down his ear for the whole of the news.

"Ten sossand," he said, smoothing his waistbands, and then inserting his
thumbs into the pits of his waistcoat. "Also a chance of forty. Let us
not lose time for ze music."

He walked away.

"I don't believe in that d---d coolness, ma'am," said Mr. Pole, wheeling
round on Freshfie