ne very little since I saw you off on
that tramp steamer. There were two or three acquaintances of yours
watching the mail boat next day on the chance of finding you."

"Herbst, I suppose, and the other squarehead from the hotel--what was
his name?--oh, Heine, and that uncleanly Greek tailor. They were a dull
lot, and I've forgotten them long ago. Tell me about yourself. Where
have you been?"

"India, Australia, and the Dago Republics, where I saw the beginning
and the end of various presidents. I made a couple of trips on a
blockade runner, and went on a hidden treasure hunt. It sounds all
right, thrilling and exciting, yet, when I size it up in my own mind, it
comes down to a record of fever and disappointment; with a few purple
patches which were so good that, somehow, they seem to have come out of
another man's book, instead of being my own experiences."

Kelly stared into his glass. "I know," he said very quietly. "I know the
game, though I got out of it sooner than you did, being wiser, as I
always told you I was. I suppose you know I'm famous?"

Jimmy smiled; long ago, Douglas Kelly had explained to him his theory of
self-advertisement, how, once he was strong enough to do so, he intended
to go in for a regular system of blatant, unblushing egotism, which
would pay equally little regard to the feelings of others and to the
recognised canons of veracity. Now, it was evident that he was
translating his theory into practice.

"Even in the Dago countries we used to get papers containing articles of
yours," Jimmy said. "And I saw a review of one of your books. Did you
put some of our old friends of the China Coast into them?"

Douglas Kelly shook his head emphatically. "They weren't even worth
satirising. They might take it as flattery if I remembered their very
existence.... I've done what I said I would, Grierson. I'm making a
thousand a year now." He turned to his companion. "Sneddon, you might go
back to the office, and see if there's anything doing. If anyone wants
me, say I'm busy"; then when the other had gone, "How are things with
you, Jimmy?" he asked bluntly.

Jimmy laughed a little awkwardly. "Well, they shot my last employer, who
was also my best friend, out there; and I came home because I thought it
might change the luck."

"So you're broke, just as I used to be?"

"No, not exactly. I've got a few pounds left; but I've nothing to do,
and I don't know what to turn my hand to--that's all." Jimmy