that she tried to rob him."

The servant of the Foreign Office looked unhappily at the Cabinet
Minister, and puffed nervously on his cigar.

"It's true, Sir Andrew, that I am a Queen's Messenger," he said
appealingly, "and a Russian woman once did try to rob a Queen's
Messenger in a railway carriage--only it did not happen to me, but to
a pal of mine. The only Russian princess I ever knew called herself
Zabrisky. You may have seen her. She used to do a dive from the roof of
the Aquarium."

Sir Andrew, with a snort of indignation, fronted the young Solicitor.

"And I suppose yours was a cock-and-bull story, too," he said. "Of
course, it must have been, since Lord Chetney is not dead. But don't
tell me," he protested, "that you are not Chudleigh's son either."

"I'm sorry," said the youngest member, smiling in some embarrassment,
"but my name is not Chudleigh. I assure you, though, that I know the
family very well, and that I am on very good terms with them."

"You should be!" exclaimed the Baronet; "and, judging from the liberties
you take with the Chetneys, you had better be on very good terms with
them, too."

The young man leaned back and glanced toward the servants at the far end
of the room.

"It has been so long since I have been in the Club," he said, "that I
doubt if even the waiters remember me. Perhaps Joseph may," he added.
"Joseph!" he called, and at the word a servant stepped briskly forward.

The young man pointed to the stuffed head of a great lion which was
suspended above the fireplace.

"Joseph," he said, "I want you to tell these gentlemen who shot that
lion. Who presented it to the Grill?"

Joseph, unused to acting as master of ceremonies to members of the Club,
shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

"Why, you--you did," he stammered.

"Of course I did!" exclaimed the young man. "I mean, what is the name of
the man who shot it! Tell the gentlemen who I am. They wouldn't believe
me."

"Who you are, my lord?" said Joseph. "You are Lord Edam's son, the Earl
of Chetney."

"You must admit," said Lord Chetney, when the noise had died away, "that
I couldn't remain dead while my little brother was accused of murder.
I had to do something. Family pride demanded it. Now, Arthur, as the
younger brother, can't afford to be squeamish, but personally I should
hate to have a brother of mine hanged for murder."

"You certainly showed no scruples against hanging me," said the
American, "b