neck from that bit of Russian lead which had caught him just as
he dropped into the trench with De Blacquaire. In the course of time he
began to carry it naturally, so that it looked like the merest little
mannerism, but it could never have been handsome by any conceivable
chance except in the eyes of a wife or a sweetheart. Irene adored it,
and would have made it a rule of fashion, as the Grecian bend and the
Alexandra limp came to be in later years, and no man would have been
allowed to carry his head in any other fashion than Polson did save
under heavy pains and penalties.

'When everybody can see how a story will end,' said one of the greatest
masters of the narrative art, 'the story is ended,' and the written
history of Polson Jervase is coming to a close.

There were certain things about which he was naturally anxious and about
which it was impossible to ask any questions. But the truth came out
little by little, and it appeared in the end that the world knew nothing
of the secrets which had escaped between the partners in the firm of
Jervase & Jervoyce in the course of that wild night which had brought to
England news of such portentous moment. There were rumours, of course.
There was a gossip to the effect that the firm had been on the edge of
ruin, and that Polson, rather than miss the fighting, had elected to go
out as a private soldier, dropping his hope of a commission for the time
being. This was a fancy which hurt nobody. John Jervase had left his
affairs in excellent order when he had established his own line of
retreat, and since he had been known to have made money hand over fist
within the last year or two, the halo which surrounds the millionaire
was about him, and it would have been hard to say whether he or the boy
were more popular in the Castle Barfield region. The general idea was
that they were a pair of valiant fellows; the one in the commercial and
the other in the warlike way.

Poor Raglan's heroisms and blunders were buried together before the day
came when in the ordinary course of events he would have led his troops
along the saluting line and have received the honours due to him from
his Sovereign.

The scent of hot grass was strong in the flaming noontide in Hyde Park
when London poured out its scores and scores of thousands to witness
the ceremonial which crowned a foolish and disastrous war with a triumph
better earned by the valour of the men who fought there than by the
statecr