ill wrap you up in a parcel and post you
to Moscow with a personal note of warning to LENIN as to your inner
knowledge and the dangerous publicity you are giving it."

For ourselves we wrote many a learned treatise on the subject and sent
many a thousand memos home to those authorities near to whose hearts
the welfare of those Bonds should be. And after many months of this
correspondence someone in the what-d'you-call-it office suddenly
sat up and took notice and wrote to us as follows: "His Majesty's
Principal Secretary of State for Thingummy has the honour to inform
you that rumours have reached his ears concerning the existence of
certain bonds, alleged to be Chinese, in the hands of Bolshevist
agitators coming or intending to come to this country. You are
requested to ascertain and report what, if anything, is known of these
Chinese Bonds."

I could have made a story for you of the uses to which the Bonds were
put in other countries and newspapers as well as your own. But that
painfully honest journal, _The Daily Herald_, has anticipated me.
And anything more you want to know about the conspiracies or the
conspirators you may now, as I judge from reading your Press,
experience for yourself. So upon that these letters may end. I would
like to have concluded by a protestation that, in making these frank
statements as to the working of, and against, the Conspirators, I
personally draw no pecuniary benefit of any sort, not a sovereign,
not a bob, not a half-penny stamp. It is perhaps better, however, to
anticipate discovery by owning up to the fact that my frankness is
being paid for at so many pence per line.

Yours ever, HENRY.

(_Concluded_.)

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Nervous Party_. "ARE YOU SURE THAT LOBSTER'S ALL
RIGHT?"

_Fishmonger_ (_on his dignity_). "QUITE RIGHT, SIR. IF IT ISN'T WE
SHALL BE HERE TO-MORROW."

_Nervous Party_. "YES--BUT SHALL _I_ BE HERE TO-MORROW?"]

* * * * *

EPITAPH FOR A PROFESSOR OF TANGO:

"_Nihil tetigit quod non ornavit_."

* * * * *

THE CAGE.

He stood in the packed building, a small lonely figure, pathetic in
the isolation that shut him off from the warm humanity of the watching
crowd.

He felt weak, ill, but he struggled to bear himself bravely. He could
not move his eyes from the stern white face that seemed to fill all
the space in front of him. About that cold