d be an excellent idea to abolish the House of
Lords, the House of Commons, the monarchical government, and place the
whole business in the hands of a Board to be presided over by Sir
Stephen."

Stafford drew at his pipe grimly and said nothing, and Howard went on
in the gentle monotone characteristic of him:

"By the way, the mysterious and proverbial little bird has whispered to
me that Sir Stephen will not be Sir Stephen much longer. In fact, that
they are going to make a peer of him very shortly. And upon my word,
they couldn't find a better man for the place; for, unlike some noble
lords you and I could mention, Staff, he will wear his robes and
coronet--do they ever wear them now--right nobly; and for once the
House of Lords will get a man who knows his own mind, knows what he
wants and the way to get it. And if you won't take offence, Staff, and
throw things at me, I should like to remark that his son will prove a
worthy successor. Can you fancy yourself in a peer's robe with a
velvet-lined coronet, Staff?"

Stafford grunted for reply, and there was silence for a minute, during
which Howard turned over the pages of one of the illustrated weeklies
which lay on the table, and suddenly he looked up and exclaimed:

"Have you seen this?"

Stafford shook his head.

"I mean this portrait of Miss Falconer," said Howard, in a low voice.
"It is wonderfully good," he went on, as he contemplated the
full-length picture; "wonderfully like her."

He handed the paper across and Stafford looked at it. It was an
admirable reproduction of a photograph of Maude in evening-dress, and
made a truly splendid picture; and looking at it, one felt instantly
how well a coronet, even a ducal one, would fit those level brows,
beneath which the eyes looked out upon the world with a scarcely masked
_hauteur_ and disdain. A man might well be proud of such a woman for
his future wife; but there was no pride in Stafford's face as his eyes
dwelt moodily on the almost perfect face, the tall, _svelt_ figure in
its long-trained robe. The splendour of her beauty oppressed him with a
sense of shame; and with an involuntary exclamation, which sounded
something like a groan, he let the paper slip from his hand, and
drooped still lower in his chair. The sight of him was more than Howard
could bear in silence, and he rose and laid a hand upon Stafford's
shoulder.

"What's wrong, old man?" he enquired in a very low voice. "You are out
of sorts; y