o read it with his
face lighting up, and clapped it back in the butler's hands.

"That's right, isn't it?" said Roach.

"Splendid, old man. But stop; why, that's your writing."

"Of course it is; I copied it."

"Oh, I see. Well, then, that's all right. Go on ahead."

"But I wish it wasn't that centre-piece again. I'm always afraid of its
being wanted."

"Oh, it won't be wanted," said the footman, impatiently.

"If you could only have managed about that key."

"Well, give me time. I say, that was a narrow squeak, when the old
woman nearly caught us."

"Yes, it was horrible," said the butler, wiping his forehead. "Fancy
her telling Jemmy, and him sending for us to come up in the lib'ry afore
the lot of them!"

"Easy enough for him to send," said the footman, with a grin, "but it
would have taken a lot of pulling to get us there."

"Yes, Orthur, my boy, the game would have been up."

"And before we'd made our pile, old man. There, you want a glass of
wine to pull you together. You mustn't go and see our dear old relative
looking like that."

"No," said Roach, brightening up; "that would not do, Orthur. The old
woman did not find us out."

"I held the door too fast for her, and a miss is as good as a mile, eh,
guv'nor? I say, old man, don't you think we might wet it?"

The butler smiled blandly.

"Well, just one glass wouldn't be amiss, my boy. What shall it be?"

"Can't beat a glass o' port, old man. What do you say?"

"I say ditto, my dear boy," and the butler, smiling, drew out his keys,
unlocked a cupboard, lifted out a cobwebby bottle with a dab of
whitewash on its end, and with a great deal of ceremony drew the cork,
while Arthur fetched and gave a finishing touch to a couple of glasses
as the cork was presented to him.

But it was only to smell, and Arthur inhaled the fragrance and sighed.
Then the rich wine came gurgling out into the glasses, and these latter
were raised.

"Well, old man, here's success to speculation," said Arthur.

"Suck-cess to speculation," said the butler, and the glasses were slowly
drained. Lips were smacked and the glasses refilled. "A very fine
wine, Orthur."

"Tip-top. How much is there of it?"

"Over six hundred dozen, my lad."

"Well, we'll help 'em drink it, old man. It's fine. Sets a fellow
thinking. Now, look here. We're not going to stand still, eh?"

"Not a bit of it, dear boy. We'll make our hay while the sun shines."

"Ah, yes,