bottles of
scent. To Somerville "Miss Bulstrode" hinted that if he really did
desire to please her, and wasn't merely talking through his hat--Miss
Bulstrode apologised for the slang, which, she feared, she must have
picked up from her brother--he might give her a box of Messani's
cigarettes, size No. 2. The suggestion pained him. Somerville the
Briefless was perhaps old-fashioned. Miss Bulstrode cut him short by
agreeing that he was, and seemed disinclined for further conversation.

They took her to Madame Tussaud's. They took her up the Monument. They
took her to the Tower of London. In the evening they took her to the
Polytechnic to see Pepper's Ghost. They made a merry party wherever they
went.

"Seem to be enjoying themselves!" remarked other sightseers, surprised
and envious.

"Girl seems to be a bit out of it," remarked others, more observant.

"Sulky-looking bit o' goods, I call her," remarked some of the ladies.

The fortitude with which Miss Bulstrode bore the mysterious disappearance
of her brother excited admiration.

"Hadn't we better telegraph to your people in Derbyshire?" suggested Jack
Herring.

"Don't do it," vehemently protested the thoughtful Miss Bulstrode; "it
might alarm them. The best plan is for you to lend me a couple of
sovereigns and let me return home quietly."

"You might be robbed again," feared Jack Herring. "I'll go down with
you."

"Perhaps he'll turn up to-morrow," thought Miss Bulstrode. "Expect he's
gone on a visit."

"He ought not to have done it," thought Jack Herring, "knowing you were
coming."

"Oh! he's like that," explained Miss Bulstrode.

"If I had a young and beautiful sister--" said Jack Herring.

"Oh! let's talk of something else," suggested Miss Bulstrode. "You make
me tired."

With Jack Herring, in particular, Johnny was beginning to lose patience.
That "Miss Bulstrode's" charms had evidently struck Jack Herring all of a
heap, as the saying is, had in the beginning amused Master Johnny.
Indeed--as in the seclusion of his bedchamber over the little grocer's
shop he told himself with bitter self-reproach--he had undoubtedly
encouraged the man. From admiration Jack had rapidly passed to
infatuation, from infatuation to apparent imbecility. Had Johnny's mind
been less intent upon his own troubles, he might have been suspicious. As
it was, and after all that had happened, nothing now could astonish
Johnny. "Thank Heaven," murmured Johnny, a