es and just be
himself, and he intended so to do having scraped a little money
together. But the idea tickled him just as it had done in Charing Cross
Station, and it had lost its monstrous appearance and had become
humorous, a highly dangerous appearance for a dangerous idea to take.

Jones was a great walker, exercise always cleared his mind and
strengthened his judgment. He set off on a long walk now, passing the
National Gallery to Regent Circus, then up Regent Street and Oxford
Street, and along Oxford Street towards the West. He found himself in
High Street Kensington, in Hammersmith, and then in those dismal regions
where the country struggles with the town.

Oh, those suburbs of London! Within easy reach of the city! Those
battalions of brick houses, bits of corpses, of what once were fields;
those villas, laundries----

The contrast between this place and Pall Mall came as a sudden
revelation to Jones, the contrast between the power, ease, affluence and
splendour of the surroundings of the Earl of Rochester, and the
surroundings of the bank clerks and small people who dwelt here.

The view point is everything. From here Carlton House Terrace seemed
almost pleasing.

Jones, like a good Democrat, had all his life professed a contempt for
rank. Titles had seemed as absurd to him as feathers in a monkey's cap.
It was here in ultra Hammersmith that he began to review this question
from a more British standpoint.

Tell it not in Gath, he was beginning to feel the vaguest antipathetic
stirring against little houses and ultra people.

He turned and began to retrace his steps. It was seven o'clock when he
reached the door of 10A, Carlton House Terrace.

CHAPTER VIII

MR. VOLES

The flunkey who admitted him, having taken his hat, stick and gloves,
presented him with a letter that had arrived by the midday post, also
with a piece of information.

"Mr. Voles called to see you, my Lord, shortly after twelve. He stated
that he had an appointment with you. He is to call again at quarter past
seven."

Jones took the letter and went with it to the room where he had sat that
morning. Upon the table lay all the letters that he had not opened that
morning. He had forgotten these. Here was a mistake. If he wished to
hold to his position for even a few days, it would be necessary to guard
against mistakes like this.

He hurriedly opened them, merely glancing at the contents, which for the
most part were uni