for an instant, but soon consented to join Charles in a bottle of beer. Was he not renewing his youth? And in any case there was a heartiness about this that contrasted favorably with pink sherbet; moreover that may be done in the open air which would be fatal in the City.

So Mr. Lauriston lay back in his chair alternately puffing at his cigar and sipping the sparkling amber fluid in his glass, while Charles rattled on about the weather and the beauties of the river and other subjects of mutual interest. However, little by little he edged round to more personal matters. "Are you a large party?" he asked in a tone which to William (who had now finished his washing-up and was lying on the grass smoking a short and ancient wooden pipe) seemed too carefully indifferent.

Mr. Lauriston hesitated before he answered. He was undoubtedly in a difficult position, torn between a natural inclination to be frank with the hospitable Charles and a no less natural doubt as to Mrs. Lauriston's approval of his proceedings. So he temporized, "No, quite a small party," he said with the genial air of one who depreciates his own possessions.

"There are five of us," said Charles. Mr. Lauriston felt a slight implication of reproach. After all there could be no harm in the mere revelation of numbers. "We are six," he returned generously; "but one does not want to be too crowded," he added, hastening off into generalities. "That's what I always feel about London; there are too many people."

"Yes," agreed Charles, "and they all look at one with suspicion. There's no friendliness about London; but the moment one gets out of it the point of view changes, and everyone one meets becomes a possible friend instead of a probable enemy. Man is naturally a sociable animal, only his instincts are

nipped in the bud by city life." Charles lighted a cigarette after these deep sayings, and then proceeded, encouraged by Mr. Lauriston's acquiescence. "Yes, I've often wondered at the difference the open air makes in one's way of regarding things. I think though one ought to be under canvas; a house-boat's a bit too civilized." Charles paused invitingly, but Mr. Lauriston vouchsafed no more than a noncommittal smile. "You're camping in tents, aren't you?" continued Charles. His guest's reticence compelled him to directness.

Mr. Lauriston admitted that such was the case and expressed a hope that the weather would continue fair. "A house-boat is better than canvas when it rains," he said.

Charles became chivalrously anxious about the weather at once. "Oh, I hope it won't rain,"-he scanned the heavens perfunctorily-"but it doesn't look like it. It would quite spoil your expedition." He paused again even more invitingly, but could only elicit some information from Mr. Lauriston about the dry character of a wind with a touch of east in it. His patience began to be exhausted, and he caught a glimpse of a discreet smile on William's amiable countenance. "You have some ladies in your party, haven't you?" he asked. "I caught sight of some parasols yesterday." Charles was expressing himself with modest inaccuracy. He had seen no parasols, but during his stroll after tea he had perceived from afar more than one graceful form fitting about among the tents, and had been sternly rebuked by the Admiral for taking pleasure in the sight.

Mr. Lauriston tried to console himself with the thought that he would have been bound to unbosom himself sooner or later. "Yes," he confessed. "my wife and nieces are with me." He remembered Mrs. Lauriston's strong remarks about his responsibility for

Miss Doris, so of her he said nothing.

Charles meanwhile was busy with mental arithmetic. Nieces, that could not mean less than two, it might mean several. The point must be ascertained if possible. "So you are the only man." he said in a tone of admiration.

It may be that Mr. Lauriston's meditations had made him morbidly sensitive of his position; anyhow he fancied that there was a note of raillery in Charles's question, and suddenly felt ashamed of himself. It was quite true; he was the only man, but he could not bring himself to confess it. Could he not equivocate harmlessly? Why, yes. of course he could; there was Martin. What did differences in rank matter? A man is a man for all that. Mr. Lauriston felt a mild glow of socialistic fervor as he answered, "Oh, no. We have a,-man with us." He tried to say another, but a deep-rooted respect for the exact truth checked the word on his tongue.

Charles, of course, did not know that the words a man were used in their basest and most technical sense, and he at once became almost jealous. "Oh!" was all he said, but his tone conveyed that the man, whoever he might be, who was thus privileged to enjoy the society of the ladies in the other camp was infinitely unworthy of that privilege.

William, who had encountered Martin in the early morning as they both were going to the farm for milk, and had exchanged a few words with him, smiled again quietly to his pipe. "Let me get out another bottle," he said, seeing that Mr. Lauriston's glass was empty.

But the gentleman thought he must be getting back, as his party would be expecting him. "I'll stroll a bit of the way with you," said Charles with alacrity, and Mr. Lauriston could not well refuse.

So it came about that Cicely (whose well-meant efforts with the rudderlines had fixed the boat's nose firmly in the soft bank) caught through the trees a glimpse of her uncle shaking hands with a young man in flannels on the bridge that crossed the lock. Doris, who was bravely trying to undo the work done by Cicely's steering, missed this sight. "Shove it hard, dear," said Cicely to her friend, who was pushing against the bank with the boat-hook, "while I make the rudder wobble," and she pulled the lines alternately with most surprising en

ergy.

CHAPTER IV.

After parting from Mr. Lauriston. Charles felt disinclined to return to William and the camp. A stroll would undoubtedly be good for him. He felt that he could hardly cross the lockbridge and follow the direction taken by his new friend, without some invitation more definite than his own hints of returning the call; and one does not return a call until after at least some hours, even under the most informal conditions of life. Yet there could be no impropriety in his pursuing his walk along his own bank of the river. He might see something,-a boat perhaps. This thought caused him to hesitate for a moment.

Would

it be wise to go back to the house-boat and put on more suitable apparel? But no; after all, he was only going to explore; exploration must always precede conquest,-if, indeed, there be anything to conquer or worth conquering, points which still remained to be cleared up to Charles's satisfaction, for, though you may form some opinion of a woman's figure from a glimpse of her three hundred yards away, you cannot be authoritative as to her face. Charles was not the man to be satisfied with conjecture, or even with moral certainty. So he returned to the mill,

and took the path behind it which followed the course of the river down stream.

Meanwhile William, whose gift for affairs amounted almost to genius, had realized from an inward sensation that a clear conscience and honest toil followed by the charms of Mr. Lauriston's conversation had sped away almost all the hours before luncheon. He set himself accordingly to the laying of the table and the extraction of a whole ox from the tin into which (so the label asserted) it had been painfully compressed. This done, he picked up an enormous metal spoon, the which he beat gong-wise upon the largest fryingpan, thus summoning any of his friends who might be within hearing to the feast. It is surprising how far a brazen clangor of this kind will travel, and in quite a short time the others appeared from different directions, with the exception of Charles, who, oblivious of time, was walking purposefully down the river bank.

"We had a visitor this morning," said William when they were all seated; "one of the other lot."

"One of the parasols?" asked Talbot suspiciously. "Is that where Charles

is? Gone off with it?"

William laughed. "Yes, that's where Charles is," he said; "only it's a man, luckily."

"What sort of man?" asked Majendie. "Elderly," replied William; "not a bad sort, though. Charles tried to pump him."

about a return visit. He only just admitted that there were ladies in his party, nieces and a wife,-didn't want to talk about them evidently-so Charles offered to walk back with him."

"Charles has the makings of a monomaniac," said Majendie. "In the whole course of my professional career---"

The Admiral broke in abruptly. Majendie's professional career was of but some two months' duration, and no one attached much importance to it except himself; he, however, argued, perhaps justly, that, in addition to a bedside manner, a medical man should betray signs of an unfathomable past. So the Admiral asked, "Do you think Charles has gone over to the other camp?"

William shook his head doubtfully. "Lauriston evidently didn't want him; but Charles has social ability. He can push like a woman."

"It's odd," said Majendie, professionally interested, "how men who cultivate the society of women must always develop certain feminine characteristics. Psychical imitativeness is a subject I propose some day to study; it is an unexplored field."

"We shall have," said Talbot, who had been thinking, "Charles turning up with four or five girls to tea this afternoon."

"No," said William with certainty. "not till he's been back to look for that Gladstone bag."

William laughed again. "Yes; but he couldn't get much out of him. He did his level best to get an introduction."

Talbot growled. "That chap will let us in for it, you mark my words." "Charles was beastly civil," William agreed; "but Lauriston,-that's his name, I think-wasn't over pressing

party." he added to Talbot.

"Oh, I'm not afraid." was the heroic answer. "He's got a conscience after all, and he knows that he ought not to have brought that suit."

"He'll be annoyed all the same," said the Admiral. "Take anything else of his you like and he doesn't mind; but when you touch his personal appearance you get him on the raw."

"We'd better all stick to the same story, at any rate," said William sensibly. "Somebody might have seen a suspicious-looking individual about,

who has probably burgled the houseboat."

"That won't do," said Majendie. "Charles would rouse the neighborhood, and some innocent yokel would be dragged off to the lock-up. I know a better plan. We'll just treat the bag as a hallucination. I've come across many cases of similar hallucination in the course of my professional career. There was an out-patient at the hospital who tried to get into the theatre the other day. We asked him what he wanted to do that for, and he explained that he had reason to believe some one was secreting his motor-car in there. We told him that there was an operation going on, and that it would be impossible for him to go in. He jumped to the conclusion that they were operating on his motor-car and got quite violent about it."

"Charles will get violent, too," said William laughing.

"It's a good idea," said the Admiral; "but I shall keep something solid between him and me while his malady is being diagnosed."

"I'm afraid," said Talbot gloomily, "the loss of his clothes won't prevent him cultivating the women; he's the smartest of us as it is. We shall have to move after all."

"Let's wait and see," said William. "I don't believe he's made their acquaintance yet. No, I'm certain he hasn't," he added as the object of discussion came in sight, looking hot and rather indignant. He had walked down the river-bank for miles and miles as it seemed to him, and had seen nothing but water, grass, trees, and a few cows and horses,-things which he might have seen equally well without leaving his comfortable chair. Instead of immediately joining the party

Presently Charles reappeared and came towards the group thoughtfully. He took his seat in silence and seizing a bottle of beer unscrewed the stopper emphatically. Having drained his glass, he helped himself to a portion of the compressed ox and some bread. Then at last he spoke. "I suppose you think it's funny," he said in dignified irony.

The eyebrows of the other four went up simultaneously and they all looked at him with well-executed surprise. "What's the matter?" asked the Admiral.

Charles finished a leisurely mouthful before he answered. "The matter is that the sense of the humorous possessed by you people is rudimentary." "I don't understand," returned the Admiral; "what's the joke?"

"Well, it's hardly a joke," said Charles still laboriously polite. "I take it it's only a tentative experiment in the humorous, and one which would not justify further attempts. It would hardly be good enough for the Lower Sixth."

The Admiral shook his head. "I give it up," he said retiring from the conversation.

Talbot took his place. "Who's been humorous," he asked, "and what about? Have you invented a new pun or something which has escaped our notice?"

"No one has been humorous," said Charles calmly. "You can't expect success the first time or two of trying. Nor have I made a pun; I do not make

puns." He cut another slice of compressed ox.

"I give it up, too," said Talbot. "You might be a little clearer," suggested William. "Has Mr. Lauriston

mide a pun? He didn't look that sort of man."

"A pun," said Majendie, "is a thing which in the whole course of my-”

Charles broke in upon the impending reminiscence. "Exactly so," he said suavely; "pills are more in your line. But the fact is that I have mislaid my Gladstone bag. I have reason to believe that you people are not ignorant of its whereabouts, and I shall be obliged if you will let me share your knowledge." He poured out the remainder of the bottle.

"Your Gladstone bag?" echoed the Admiral blankly.

"You haven't got a Gladstone bag." said Talbot with a ring of conviction in his tones.

"I have," Charles replied, "or rather I had. I expect shortly to be in need of it, and therefore I shall be gratified by its early return." Unconsciously Charles's politeness assumed a literary complexion.

"Has he got a Gladstone bag?" Majendie enquired of William.

"No," said William with unusual firmness.

Charles turned to him. "You may remember," he said, "that yesterday afternoon I was wearing a blue suit. That suit is inside the Gladstone bag." Majendie exchanged a quick glance with William, whose face at once assumed an expression of guileless surprise. "A blue suit?" he returned. "You haven't got a blue suit. None of us have," he added in momentary compunction.

Charles's tone became slightly weary. "Perhaps you can recall the circumstance," he said to the Admiral. But the Admiral could remember nothing of it.

"What have you been drinking?" asked Talbot bluntly, thinking it about time for Majendie to take the lead.

"Beer," answered Charles indicating the empty bottle beside him; "but one bottle does not make a drunkard, as you seem to imply. It may be that you see two bottles."

"No." said Talbot, "there is but one bottle there; but neither does one bottle make an imaginary Gladstone bag. What did they give you at the other camp?"

Charles ignored the question and lit a cigarette nonchalantly. His tremendous calm was not without its impressiveness. Majendie did not like the look of it; his professional instinct awoke, and he adjusted his eyeglasses, the better to diagnose the case. fancy you've been overdoing it a bit. old man, haven't you?" he said in the bedside manner. "Coming down from London one's apt to overlook the force of the sun."

"I

"Thanks, I feel extremely fit," Charles returned unmoved. A strong determination was working within him. He was the victim of a conspiracy, but he would wreak a summary vengeance in the way that would embarrass the conspirators most. It would not be long, he knew, before the means would lie ready to his hand.

"All the same," continued Majendie persuasively, "I should take it easy this afternoon. Keep in the shade till tea-time; then you'll feel better still. I'll give you a dose this evening."

"Much obliged to you," said Charles. "I won't overwork myself. I shall just find my Gladstone bag, and then I shall pay a call. I shall very likely bring some ladies back to tea," he said to William as he rose.

Talbot looked after him as he departed. "It'll take some finding," he observed. "If he doesn't pay his call till he's got his clothes, we shan't be worried with ladies' society much."