ached the edge of the
pavement. Ejaculating a brief command, Edward Henry disappeared within
the vehicle and was whirled away in a style whose perfection no scion
of a governing family could have bettered.

IV

The next scene in the exciting drama of Edward Henry's existence
that day took place in a building as huge as Wilkins's itself. As the
brougham halted at its portals an old and medalled man rushed forth,
touched his cap, and assisted Edward Henry to alight. Within the
groined and echoing hall of the establishment a young boy sprang out
and, with every circumstance of deference, took Edward Henry's hat
and stick. Edward Henry then walked a few steps to a lift, and said
"smoking-room" to another menial, who bowed humbly before him, and at
the proper moment bowed him out of the lift. Edward Henry, crossing
a marble floor, next entered an enormous marble apartment chiefly
populated by easy-chairs and tables. He sat down to a table and
fiercely rang a bell which reposed thereon. Several of her menials
simultaneously appeared out of invisibility, and one of them hurried
obsequiously towards him.

"Bring me a glass of water and a peerage," said Edward Henry.

"I beg pardon, sir. A glass of water and--"

"A peerage. P double e, r, a, g, e."

"I beg your pardon, sir. I didn't catch. Which peerage, sir? We have
several."

"All of them."

In a hundred seconds, the last menial having thanked him for kindly
taking the glass and the pile of books, Edward Henry was sipping water
and studying peerages. In two hundred seconds he was off again. A
menial opened the swing-doors of the smoking-room for him and bowed.
The menial of the lift bowed, wafted him downwards and bowed. The
infant menial produced his hat and stick and bowed. The old and
medalled menial summoned his brougham with a frown at the chauffeur
and a smile at Edward Henry, bowed, opened the door of the brougham,
helped Edward Henry in, bowed, and shut the door.

"Where to, sir?"

"262 Eaton Square," said Edward Henry.

"Thank you, sir," said the aged menial, and repeated in a curt and
peremptory voice to the chauffeur, "262 Eaton Square!" Lastly he
touched his cap.

And Edward Henry swiftly left the precincts of the headquarters of
political democracy in London.

V

As he came within striking distance of 262 Eaton Square he had the
advantage of an unusual and brilliant spectacle.

Lord Woldo was one of the richest human beings in Eng