must needs stroll back a bit, and before I knew
where I was he'd be lighting a fresh one. He smoked the finest cigars
in America. I remember him telling me they cost him three dollars
apiece."

And Edward Henry then perceived another profound truth, his second
cardinal discovery on that notable evening: namely, that no matter
how high you rise, you will always find that others have risen higher.
Nay, it is not until you have achieved a considerable peak that you
are able to appreciate the loftiness of those mightier summits. He
himself was high, and so he could judge the greater height of Seven
Sachs; and it was only through the greater height of Seven Sachs that
he could form an adequate idea of the pinnacle occupied by the unique
Archibald Florance. Honestly, he had never dreamt that there existed a
man who habitually smoked twelve-shilling cigars--and yet he reckoned
to know a thing or two about cigars!

"I am nothing!" he thought modestly. Nevertheless, though the savour
of the name of Archibald Florance was agreeable, he decided that he
had heard enough for the moment about Archibald Florance, and that
he would relate to Mr. Sachs the famous episode of his own career in
which the Countess of Chell and a mule had so prominently performed.

"I remember--" he recommenced.

"My first encounter with Archibald Florance was very funny," proceeded
Mr. Seven Sachs, blandly deaf. "I was starving in New York,--trying to
sell a new razor on commission--and I was determined to get on to the
stage. I had one visiting-card left--just one. I wrote 'Important' on
it, and sent it up to Wunch. I don't know whether you've ever heard
of Wunch. Wunch was Archibald Florance's stage-manager, and nearly as
famous as Archibald himself. Well, Wunch sent for me upstairs to his
room, but when he found I was only the usual youngster after the usual
job he just had me thrown out of the theatre. He said I'd no right
to put 'Important' on a visiting-card. 'Well,' I said to myself,
'I'm going to get back into that theatre somehow!' So I went up to
Archibald's private house--Sixtieth Street I think it was--and asked
to see him, and I saw him. When I got into his room he was writing.
He kept on writing for some minutes, and then he swung round on his
chair.

"'And what can I do for you, sir?' he said.

"'Do you want any actors, Mr. Florance?' I said.

"'Are you an actor?' he said.

"'I want to be one,' I said.

"'Well,' he said, 'there's