gave an intent look.

"I can't make out the title," he temporised, shaking his head, and
letting his eyeglass drop.

On the whole, it was very well acted; and I hope the occult little smile
that played about the Duchessa's lips was a smile of appreciation.

"It has a highly appropriate title," she said. "It is called 'A Man of
Words,' by an author I've never happened to hear of before, named Felix
Wildmay."

"Oh, yes. How very odd," said Peter. "By a curious chance, I know it
very well. But I 'm surprised to discover that you do. How on earth did
it fall into your hands?"

"Why on earth shouldn't it?" wondered she. "Novels are intended to fall
into people's hands, are they not?"

"I believe so," he assented. "But intentions, in this vale of tears,
are not always realised, are they? Anyhow, 'A Man of Words' is not like
other novels. It's peculiar."

"Peculiar--?" she repeated.

"Of a peculiar, of an unparalleled obscurity," he explained. "There has
been no failure approaching it since What's-his-name invented printing.
I hadn't supposed that seven copies of it were in circulation."

"Really?" said the Duchessa. "A correspondent of mine in London
recommended it. But--in view of its unparalleled obscurity is n't it
almost equally a matter for surprise that you should know it?"

"It would be, sure enough," consented Peter, "if it weren't that I just
happen also to know the author."

"Oh--? You know the author?" cried the Duchessa, with animation.

"Comme ma poche," said Peter. "We were boys together."

"Really?" said she. "What a coincidence."

"Yes," said he.

"And--and his book?" Her eyebrows went up, interrogative. "I expect, as
you know the man, you think rather poorly of it?"

"On the contrary, in the teeth of verisimilitude, I think extremely
well of it," he answered firmly. "I admire it immensely. I think it's
an altogether ripping little book. I think it's one of the nicest little
books I've read for ages.

"How funny," said she.

"Why funny?" asked he.

"It's so unlikely that one should seem a genius to one's old familiar
friends."

"Did I say he seemed a genius to me? I misled you. He does n't. In fact,
he very frequently seems--but, for Charity's sake, I 'd best forbear
to tell. However, I admire his book. And--to be entirely frank--it's a
constant source of astonishment to me that he should ever have been able
to do anything one-tenth so good."

The Duchessa smiled pensively.

"Ah,