and joy of life's
most precious possession.

CHAPTER XVIII

T. X. sat at his desk, his chin in his hands, his mind remarkably busy.
Grave as the matter was which he was considering, he rose with alacrity
to meet the smiling girl who was ushered through the door by Mansus,
preternaturally solemn and mysterious.

She was radiant that day. Her eyes were sparkling with an unusual
brightness.

"I've got the most wonderful thing to tell you," she said, "and I can't
tell you."

"That's a very good beginning," said T. X., taking her muff from her
hand.

"Oh, but it's really wonderful," she cried eagerly, "more wonderful than
anything you have ever heard about."

"We are interested," said T. X. blandly.

"No, no, you mustn't make fun," she begged, "I can't tell you now, but
it is something that will make you simply--" she was at a loss for a
simile.

"Jump out of my skin?" suggested T. X.

"I shall astonish you," she nodded her head solemnly.

"I take a lot of astonishing, I warn you," he smiled; "to know you is to
exhaust one's capacity for surprise."

"That can be either very, very nice or very, very nasty," she said
cautiously.

"But accept it as being very, very nice," he laughed. "Now come, out
with this tale of yours."

She shook her head very vigorously.

"I can't possibly tell you anything," she said.

"Then why the dickens do you begin telling anything for?" he complained,
not without reason.

"Because I just want you to know that I do know something."

"Oh, Lord!" he groaned. "Of course you know everything. Belinda Mary,
you're really the most wonderful child."

He sat on the edge of her arm-chair and laid his hand on her shoulder.

"And you've come to take me out to lunch!"

"What were you worrying about when I came in?" she asked.

He made a little gesture as if to dismiss the subject.

"Nothing very much. You've heard me speak of John Lexman?"

She bent her head.

"Lexman's the writer of a great many mystery stories, but you've
probably read his books."

She nodded again, and again T. X. noticed the suppressed eagerness in
her eyes.

"You're not ill or sickening for anything, are you?" he asked anxiously;
"measles, or mumps or something?"

"Don't be silly," she said; "go on and tell me something about Mr.
Lexman."

"He's going to America," said T. X., "and before he goes he wants to
give a little lecture."

"A lecture?"

"It sounds rum, doesn't it, but that's ju