ve you turned Cocksley Coxon into?" Belturbet
asked anxiously, mentioning the name of one of the pillars of
unorthodoxy in the Anglican Church. "I don't fancy he BELIEVES in
angels, and if he finds an angel preaching orthodox sermons from his
pulpit while he's been turned into a fox-terrier, he'll develop rabies
in less than no time."

"I rather think it was a fox-terrier," said the Duke lazily.

Belturbet groaned heavily, and sank into a chair.

"Look here, Eugene," he whispered hoarsely, having first looked well
round to see that no one was within hearing range, "you've got to stop
it. Consols are jumping up and down like bronchos, and that speech of
Halfour's in the House last night has simply startled everybody out of
their wits. And then on the top of it, Thistlebery--"

"What has he been saying?" asked the Duke quickly.

"Nothing. That's just what's so disturbing. Every one thought it was
simply inevitable that he should come out with a great epoch-making
speech at this juncture, and I've just seen on the tape that he has
refused to address any meetings at present, giving as a reason his
opinion that something more than mere speech-making was wanted."

The young Duke said nothing, but his eyes shone with quiet exultation.

"It's so unlike Thistlebery," continued Belturbet; "at least," he said
suspiciously, "it's unlike the REAL Thistlebery--"

"The real Thistlebery is flying about somewhere as a
vocally-industrious lapwing," said the Duke calmly; "I expect great
things of the Angel-Thistlebery," he added.

At this moment there was a magnetic stampede of members towards the
lobby, where the tape-machines were ticking out some news of more than
ordinary import.

"COUP D'ETAT in the North. Thistlebery seizes Edinburgh Castle.
Threatens civil war unless Government expands naval programme."

In the babel which ensued Belturbet lost sight of his young friend.
For the best part of the afternoon he searched one likely haunt after
another, spurred on by the sensational posters which the evening papers
were displaying broadcast over the West End. "General Baden-Baden
mobilizes Boy-Scouts. Another COUP D'ETAT feared. Is Windsor Castle
safe?" This was one of the earlier posters, and was followed by one of
even more sinister purport: "Will the Test-match have to be postponed?"
It was this disquietening question which brought home the real
seriousness of the situation to the London public, and made people