om the defeat with credit, he had no taste for defeat. He
disliked defeat even when it was served with jam. And his indomitable
thoughts turned to the Countess again. He put it to himself in this way,
scratching his head:

"I've got to get hold of that woman, and that's all about it!"

The Countess at this period was busying herself with the policemen of
the Five Towns. In her exhaustless passion for philanthropy, bazaars,
and platforms, she had already dealt with orphans, the aged, the blind,
potter's asthma, creches, churches, chapels, schools, economic cookery,
the smoke-nuisance, country holidays, Christmas puddings and blankets,
healthy musical entertainments, and barmaids. The excellent and
beautiful creature was suffering from a dearth of subjects when the
policemen occurred to her. She made the benevolent discovery that
policemen were over-worked, underpaid, courteous and trustworthy public
servants, and that our lives depended on them. And from this discovery
it naturally followed that policemen deserved her energetic assistance.
Which assistance resulted in the erection of a Policemen's Institute at
Hanbridge, the chief of the Five Towns. At the Institute policemen would
be able to play at draughts, read the papers, and drink everything
non-alcoholic at prices that defied competition. And the Institute also
conferred other benefits on those whom all the five Mayors of the Five
Towns fell into the way of describing as "the stalwart guardians of the
law." The Institute, having been built, had to be opened with due
splendour and ceremony. And naturally the Countess of Chell was the
person to open it, since without her it would never have existed.

The solemn day was a day in March, and the hour was fixed for three
o'clock, and the place was the large hall of the Institute itself,
behind Crown Square, which is the Trafalgar Square of Hanbridge. The
Countess was to drive over from Sneyd. Had the epoch been ten years
later she would have motored over. But probably that would not have made
any difference to what happened.

In relating what did happen, I confine myself to facts, eschewing
imputations. It is a truism that life is full of coincidences, but
whether these events comprised a coincidence, or not, each reader must
decide for himself, according to his cynicism or his faith in human
nature.

The facts are: First, that Denry called one day at the house of Mrs Kemp
a little lower down Brougham Street, Mrs K