Deputy Providence bringing happiness to six human
beings--Lola Brandt, Captain Vauvenarde, Lady Kynnersley, Maisie
Ellerton, Dale, and Mr. Anastasius Papadopoulos, who could not fail to
be delighted at the happiness of his goddess.

There also might burst joyously on the earth a brood of gleeful little
Vauvenardes and merry little Kynnersleys, who might regard Simon de Gex
as their mythical progenitor. It might add to the gaiety of regiments
and the edification of parliaments. Acts should be judged, thought
I, not according to their trivial essence, but by the light of their
far-reaching consequences.

Lola Brandt broke the silence. She did not look at me. She said:

"I can't help feeling that you're my friend."

"I am," I cried, in the exultation of my promotion to the role of Deputy
Providence. "I am indeed. And a most devoted one."

"Will you let me think over what you've said for a day or two--and then
come for an answer?"

"Willingly," said I.

"And you won't----?"

"What?"

"No. I know you won't."

"Tell Dale?" I said, guessing. "No, of course not."

She rose and put out both her hands to me in a very noble gesture. I
took them and kissed one of them.

She looked at me with parted lips.

"You are the best man I have ever met," she said.

At the moment of her saying it I believed it; such conviction is induced
by the utterances of this singular woman. But when I got outside the
drawing-room door my natural modesty revolted. I slapped my thigh
impatiently with what I thought were my gloves. They made so little
sound that I found there was only one. I had left the other inside. I
entered and found Lola Brandt in front of the fire holding my glove in
her hand. She started in some confusion.

"Is this yours?" she asked.

Now whose could it have been but mine? The ridiculous question worried
me, off and on, all the evening.

CHAPTER VII

The murder is out. A paragraph has appeared in the newspapers to the
effect that the marriage arranged between Mr. Simon de Gex and Miss
Eleanor Faversham will not take place. It has also become common
knowledge that I am resigning my seat in Parliament on account of
ill-health. That is the reason rightly assigned by my acquaintances for
the rupture of my engagement. I am being rapidly killed by the doleful
kindness of my friends. They are so dismally sympathetic. Everywhere I
go there are long faces and solemn hand-shakes. In order to cheer myself
I gave a