e ranks
of the police, so little recognised, so meagrely rewarded, have at
length found their commemoration in an historical act. History, which
will represent Mr. Parnell sitting silent under the appeal of Mr.
Forster, and Gordon setting forth upon his tragic enterprise, will not
forget Mr. Cole carrying the dynamite in his defenceless hands, nor Mr.
Cox coming coolly to his aid._

_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
FANNY VAN DE GRIFT STEVENSON._

_A NOTE FOR THE READER_

_It is within the bounds of possibility that you may take up this
volume, and yet be unacquainted with its predecessor: the first series
of_ NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. _The loss is yours--and mine; or, to be more
exact, my publishers'. But if you are thus unlucky, the least I can do
is to pass you a hint. When you shall find a reference in the following
pages to one Theophilus Godall of the Bohemian Cigar Divan in Rupert
Street, Soho, you must be prepared to recognise under his features no
less a person than Prince Florizel of Bohemia, formerly one of the
magnates of Europe, now dethroned, exiled, impoverished, and embarked in
the tobacco trade._

_R. L. S._

MORE NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS

THE DYNAMITER

PROLOGUE OF THE CIGAR DIVAN

In the city of encounters, the Bagdad of the West, and, to be more
precise, on the broad northern pavement of Leicester Square, two young
men of five- or six-and-twenty met after years of separation. The first,
who was of a very smooth address, and clothed in the best fashion,
hesitated to recognise the pinched and shabby air of his companion.

"What!" he cried, "Paul Somerset!"

"I am indeed Paul Somerset," returned the other, "or what remains of him
after a well-deserved experience of poverty and law. But in you,
Challoner, I can perceive no change; and time may be said, without
hyperbole, to write no wrinkle on your azure brow."

"All," replied Challoner, "is not gold that glitters. But we are here in
an ill posture for confidences, and interrupt the movement of these
ladies. Let us, if you please, find a more private corner."

"If you will allow me to guide you," replied Somerset, "I will offer you
the best cigar in London."

And taking the arm of his companion, he led him in silence and at a
brisk pace to the door of a quiet establishment in Rupert Street, Soho.
The entrance was adorned with one of those gigantic Highlanders of wood
which have almost risen to the standing of antiquities