In the Shadow of the Pyramids; the last days of Ismail Khédive, 1879. A novel

Book I. Money Talks

Chapter Page I — A Financial Expert's Love Dilemma, .... 5 II — Uncle James' Strange Dinner Party. Mustapha Fehmy Pasha's Innings, 25 III — Midas to the Rescue. At Marseilles, . .■ . . 48 IV — Under Sealed Orders. A Friend and Mentor. Followed! 67 V — Pitfalls for 'he Unwary ! By Pompey's Pillar. A Surprise 84

Book II. The Handwriting On The Wall

VI — Cherif Pasha Takes a Hand in the Game. His Highness the Khedive. Stylish Neighbors. Lischen the Flower Girl. At the Viennese Ladies' Concert, . 1 1 1 VII — Danger Signals! A John Bull a la Mode at Shepheard's Hotel. With the Khedive. "How Soon Can You Act ? " " When Will I Receive the Papers?" A Prince's Pact, 148 VIII — The Midnight Hour. Morning in the Studio. " He is the Khedive's Guest ! " Summoned to Abdin Palace. The Commission Proclaimed. "You Will Never Get the Documents.1' A False Delivery. At the Pyramids. A Missing Count, 179 IX — The Diva's Stratagem. Stephanie's Warning. " Not Even Your Health ! " Lischen's Confession, 213 X — Belshazzar's Ball at the Ghezireh Palace. An Insulted Duchess ! " That Makes You a Gentleman!" The Count's False Stroke. Grosvenor Goesin to Win! "This Seals Us for Life!" 235 CONTENTS.

Book III. The Wreck Of

A THRONE. Chapter Page XI — With Gordon in the Shoubrah Palace. A Vain and Empty Show. Gordon Pasha's Ultimatum. Abdallah's Brother. The Secret Meeting. At the Citadel, 269 XII — The Inspection Tour. On the Nile. Nubar Pasha's Overthrow. The Paw of the Sphinx. Ratib Pasha's Proposal, 301 XIII — On the Brink. The Khedive's Message. Once More at Abdin Palace. A Sovereign's Tears ! In Old Fort Turra. Abdallah Outwitted. The Astarte's Race. A New Khedive ! Grosvenor's Telegram. " All Hands Aboard," _\^^ XIV — Hassan's Story. A Dinner on the " Mahmoudieh." At Brindisi. "There is Yet Time!" The Hotel de Russie at Chillon. Sir James Lawrie's Gift. A Voice from the Past. Carioli's Tele gram. Lord Wrexham's Return,

Chapter I

A FINANCIAL EXPERT'S LOVE DILEMMA. The very laziest and handsomest member of the Travel er's Club of London seemed to be wrapped in a comforta ble day dream, as he lay stretched out in a leather-padded smoking chair and idly contemplated the tide of humanity pouring along Pall Mall. There was a gathering frown upon the face of the Hon orable Charles Grosvenor, when his automatic manufac ture of perfect smoke rings was interrupted by the pres ence ofa club page, a walking arsenal of buttons! "Immediate answer requested, Sir!" said the lad, as he tendered a dainty note, lying discreetly on the silver sal ver with its superscription turned down! "Charley" Grosvenor's languid curiosity gave way to an exclamation of decided annoyance, as he twisted himself around, and overturned a light table whereupon the Har vey's Club soda flask, dainty carafe of cognac, and a carelessly tossed aside letter made an object lesson in the vertical motion of falling bodies.

It was half past five by the clock, and a dreary enough January afternoon of the year of our Lord eighteen sev enty-nine. While the stewards hastily readjusted the "wreck of matter," Lord Wrexham's eldest son and heir perused the unwelcome letter which had put a period to his brown study. "By Jove! Milly seems to trace me out as the wary beater finds the doomed tiger in his jungle! I will haunt the Alpine, the 'Varsity,' or Brooks' after this! Dear child! She would never dare, I hope, to send to Brooks' for her missing brother!" With a good-humored smile he dashed off these words: "Will be on hand, surely, — " and then he scrawled the family address in St. George's, Hanover Square. "There you are, Buttons!" he sighed, as he solaced himself with the replenished "personal supplies" and comfortably curled up, watched the grave-faced club steward carefully drying out the forgotten letter at the glowing sea-coal fire.

Charley Grosvenor had dutifully yielded to' an urgent appeal of the Honorable Millicent Grosvenor, as ex pressed in a three-page letter, and couched in the imperative language of a petted young sister. The bronzed faced giant laughed tenderly as he noted the repetition of single, double and treble underscoring! Thirty-eight lightly-borne years found the veteran sportsman and globe trotter still as free of all entangling alliances as when he left Cambridge at twenty-two, a laureled athlete, warm of heart, mighty in thews and sinews and lightly laden with cares! A profound respect for that veteran English diplomat, Lord Wrexham, his distinguished father, now absent upon the affairs of the Kaisar-LHind; — a lingering mem ory painted heart-worship of his dear dead mother; and, a chivalrous tenderness for the stately young lady of Wrexham Hall comprised all his slender family affilia tions.

The two fair-haired lads, Cyril and Sidney, at Eton, were only known to him as grateful recipients of the titanic tips, with which he always bribed them to leave him absolutely "uninterviewed," on his brief home visits ! And, entrenched in his clubs he defied the "young per son" in all her bewitching forms. "By Jove! I'm in a regular hole!" exclaimed Grosve nor, as he folded his sister's letter up, and glanced at his watch. "I wonder if Milly really has any need of me! Poor old Ken! I had forgotten his urgent appeal! I must now leave him a note to wait for me here, at the club! He is quivering in all the tender agonies of the anxious lover! A financial expert's love dilemma! It's a shame ! To spend his life in toil among the heaped-up millions of the British Investor; and to have to wear him self out, a mere drudge, in the service of the long-eared Midases of our latter day!

If he only had a lucky wind fall — some odd bit of 'tin' dropping in — there might be a chance; — but, he's sadly out of line, poor fellow — in his most romantic lovemaking! Seems that true love and financial imprudence are cradle mates!" Charley Grosvenor accepted the returned letter from the waiting steward and ran it over with increased curiosity ! "This is serious, I fear," he growled, as he thrust the letter of his chum into his breast-pocket and, ordering a four-wheeler, sped away to answer his sister's appeal and report at dinner, "for instructions." An evident connection between the two letters appealing for his help, told him of the threatened detection of a most rashly-devised love episode which was the re sult of an accidental meeting in the fair summer time by the Swiss lakes. "I am afraid it's no go!" sighed the young noble.

As the carriage rolled along, Grosvenor clearly saw "the little cloud no bigger than a man's hand," which was destined to break out in the blackest storm. "Here is this cold-hearted old Moneybags, — secretly following up Kenneth Gryffyth and dodging in and out for a week, in close conference with Benjamin and Son ! I can see the old boy's dodge! He will surely find out all about Grif's vacation of last summer! It would have been better if poor Ken had been far away either inspect ing Peruvian nitrate beds, — experting American Railway accounts, — untangling mountainous Turkish indebted ness, or else mooning over the deficits in the Chinese customs! Yes! The sharp old banker has at last discovered our secret! He will now straightways pack Miss Kath leen Lawrie off to some gloomy Highland stronghold, or else mount a double guard here in the West End !

The game is up, at last!" While he paused to bring a peace offering of choicest flowers to his sweet sister Milly, he revolved the pleading distress of her urgent letter. "Kathleen has been with me all the afternoon, and she is left absolutely helpless without our secret aid! Her father has been closely interrogating her about Kenneth for several days. Of course, — she denied all knowledge of him, and, — she implores our help! How much he knows, we cannot even guess!" "Yes! That's the old sly boots' game!" mused the an gered shining light of the Alpine and Travelers' clubs. "He has, of course, marked down poor Ken's every movement of the last year! He is working at the al gebra of Love backwards — and — we will all of us soon be in no end of a hole ! I wonder if the Baroness would help?" And then, even in his perplexity, handsome Charley Grosvenor laughed at his own stupidity, for Ethel Har court, the one time English beauty, now Madame la Baronne de Saint-Nazaire, was the inflexible propriety dragon of Lord Wrexham's splendid home.

She had taken away to her brilliant French marriage a very just idea of the market value of her own charms, birth and breeding. Her roseleaf existence was left unruffled even by the "chute de l'Empire," and the death of her gallant husband who charged at Gravellotte only to meet his death in honor. Now, installed as duenna of the Wrexham household, she passed a delightfully unconcerned existence in com paring herself with the rest of the world, greatly to the disadvantage of the other dwellers on this mundane sphere! "Stony-hearted Dresden doll!" laughed Charley Gros venor. "She is only the conservator of a peerless social form, and the guardian of a matchless complexion! C'est son metier! Voila tout! No help there!" And, so, he descended gloomily at the imposing gates of Lord Wrexham's town house, only to be smothered in the embraces of his sweet sister Milly, an apparition of smiling lips and tearful lashes, whose cry of delight, rapturous welcome and the partial destruction of the guinea boquet were all simultaneous charming occur rences.

"You dear old Charley! You are all I have to depend on, now!" she entreated, as she gently dragged him away to her own particular den. "We have just half an hour left before dinner! I must tell you all! Aunt Ethel must never know! She is a very gorgon of propriety! And, you will help Kathleen, — for my sake, — won't you?" The beautiful girl's soft eyes were pleading to 'him now! "We will see, little woman!" kindly answered the overwhelmed visitor. "I fear there has been some untoward happening! Ken neth himself is in despair, and, — he will await me to night, at the Club! You and I, Miss Milly," he laughed, "have two very unhappy people on our hands!" When they were safe in My Lady's Bower, the eighteen year-old Machiavelli skillfully bribed her protecting brother with her loving tribute of unaccustomed Egyp tian cigarettes of the very choicest flavor, and, while cosily seated near, a waiting Hebe, she related all the woes of her "other soul," — that incomparable beauty of the liquid Irish-gray eyes.

This "other soul" was Miss Kathleen Lawrie, the only child and sole heiress of James Lawrie, Esq., of Belgrave Square, London, of Portrush Lodge, Bangor, Ireland — and, the Priory, Stirling, Scotland, — the Lawrie, — of Lawrie's Impregnable Bank! Lord Wrexham's heir listened, in an amused silence, to the caustic strictures of his beloved sister upon the flinty-hearted money-grubber, known all over the world of finance as the Millionaire James Lawrie, of Lawrie's Bank — and a Director in many vast financial enterprises of a gloomy and conservative solidity. "There, now, Milly, darling!" philosophically coun selled the brother. "Resign yourself to facts! Of course, it would be very delightful if James Lawrie, Esq., were to be gathered to his fathers, — but, before Kenneth Grvffyth and Kathleen Lawrie may hope to wed, — I fear that we must all beware of many pitfalls in the way of these lovers!

"Just tell me, little one, exactly what has happened, for poor Ken is apparently in the clutches of the old moss trooper." "I only fear that Lawrie will now use his potent in fluence, and chase the poor boy out of England!" He smothered the exclamation "Beast!" and lent an ear to the agitated girl's story. "It seems so strange," began sweet Milly, "that in all the years of their London life, Kathleen's father has ignored the very existence of his favorite cousin's only son. "Now, Kathleen has just left me ! Her father, for sev eral days, has suddenly turned inquisitor, and has been most untiring in questioning her as to any personal knowledge of Kenneth Gryffyth's character, — standing, — his haunts, — his tastes, — his social occupations and all that a society girl might hear of a man not altogether un known !

"There must have been some old family bitterness! For, Kenneth is a man of mark, even now!" "It is very strange!" murmured Charley, as he lit a fresh "burnt offering!" "Of course," resumed Miss Milly, "Marjorie Lawrie's beauty and graces are, even yet, remembered by her one time friends! Kathleen easily divined from these old friends' veiled hints that James Lawrie may have long hidden a secret heart-wound. "It is many long years, since the favorite cousin married that brilliant collegian, Gryffyth Gryffyth, and buried her beauty in a modest rectory, hidden in the purple Welsh mountains! But, to all appearances, James Law rie is as yet ignorant of our summer wanderings at Chil lon, and all the happy days of our strangely met Alpine quartette ! "But," sighed Milly, "Kathleen now fears that the eagle eyed old banker has at last found out our quadruple se cret, and — that he will soon send her away to the utter most ends of the earth!

For, I fancy myself, — that James Lawrie does not care to ever see the son of the man whose superb talents won the day against the red gold which Lawrie has made his idol!" While the eager girl unfolded, with "bashful maiden art," the growing terrors of Kathleen Lawrie's soft bosom, her puzzled brother tugged away at his mustache in a growing perplexity! "We must stand stoutly to our guns, little woman," he smilingly said, stroking the golden hair which he so loved to see rippling over that white brow. "Don't you see if the old boy was sure of his game, he would simply act, — and, — say nothing! Wait till I find out the burden of poor Ken's misery, and then, I'll come to you to-morrow. It may not be so bad, after all! Then we will make the plan of the strongest offensive and defensive alliance.

"Now, — let us go down to dinner, and, — remember to beware of the Baroness! She is like unto the bear filled with honey, — sweetness and strength!" "And, so, you'll help my darling Kathleen?" demanded the enthusiastic Milly, when she had concluded a further disclosure, necessitating the second sounding of the silver dinner-gong. "To the very steps of the altar, little one! For your sake !" laughed the Honorable Charles, as he primly pre pared to gently guy the stately Baroness, wrapped up in the clinging mantle of her own self-love! They were, however, a suave and decorous trio at the splendid table over which the sad-eyed butler hovered with all due solemnity, — and at which the shaven servi tors waited, duly sobered by the substantial splendors of the Wrexham menage. Madame la Baronne exhibited her usual august de portment; only a shade less impressive even than her grand manners of the Tuileries, for, as usual, "Lucullus supped with Lucullus."

The brother and sister were admirable foils as they sat bravely under the sapphire glare of the Baroness' unfaded eyes. The Honorable Charles Grosvenor had acquired the healthy brown neck aureole and nut-brown arms which he boasted, on the placid waters of Granta, in the days when he was stroke oar of his 'varsity eight. The Essex arena never turned out a brighter exponent of the 'mens sana in corpore sano' than Charley Grosve nor. The mingled blood of Saxon and Norman pulsed in his veins, and his gray-blue eyes, fair hair and towering stature were clearly the Saxon legacy. Flis varying humors, his gentle self-surrender to pleasures, and all the latent romance of his nature came down from those versatile Norman ancestors who had bravely chanted songs of love and lays of romances under the glare of the red watch-fires of Hastings.

Charley Grosvenor's forefathers had smoothly paved the way for him, and golden spoons were his cradle gifts ! For, power, place and high fortune seemed to cling to the Wrexhams as the mistletoe lingers in the spreading branches of the English oak! No man of his time at Trinity had left a more genial memory upon the banks of the Cam, and a fund of rem iniscent anecdote still blazoned his prowess with glove and foil, with spur and oar! A genial son of Anak, he was still remembered and beloved as a good-natured and lazy Lancelot of his 'varsity fellows. "Whom he smote, he overthrew," and, when his fitful fever of over-exertion had subsided, he allowed the other contestants "to press on for the mark," then himself sub siding into the easy contentment of "bitter beer" and his cherished pipe! It was an easy-going world of high life which gladly welcomed the young noble.

It was generally admitted that Grosvenor could speak, — twang the college lyre, — turn off a Greek ode, — or un tangle a knotty problem with any one of his fellows, but — after some splendid tour de force,— he always allowed the bread and place winners to go on and pass him ! For a Wrexham needed no career, and the golden spoons were alwavs at hand! "Embarras de luxe!" Singularly reticent, quietly observant, loyal and good natured, he left Trinity, however, with an easily won de gree, and then went in for a whole lot of things. To see the world, — to explore "deserts wild and antres vast," — to "shoot things" in four continents, and, to be come a charming cosmopolitan — was Charley Grosve nor's self-appointed task ! He duly drank the light froth of the cup of pleasure, and, yet, never forgot that the day would come when he would sign himself "Wrexham."

In all his plowing of the "Seven Seas," in his continental wander-jahre, — in the long globe-trotting years, he had insensibly accumulated a vast fund of worldly wisdom, for he had the faculty of extracting the knowledge of others by mere propinquity. A right proper cavalier, — a superb man at arms, — he would have made, and the glittering-eyed Frederick the Great would have conspired to place him in the front rank of his model Regiment of Grenadiers! Easily biding his time, he knew that the mantle of Elijah would descend upon Elisha, in time, and, he vague ly put off the consideration of what would befall when he became Lord Wrexham. There was always time left to open the world's oyster! There was an unconscious preparation in these world wanderings for his career as an Englishman of rank and note and foreign intercourse had polished off into a rounded symmetry his insular coldness.

Laurels rested not on handsome Charley Grosvenor's shapely head, but, the Cambridge bronze had deepened into the inburned red of the explorer, — the desert-rider and the Indian shekarry. His name stood high on the roll of honor of the Alpine and Travelers' clubs, — and, from palace and country house, foyer and coulisse, to cosy club and "my lady's chamber," — Charley Grosvenor preserved the open se same of youth, birth, good looks and fortune! As he gently parried the Baroness' pointed queries with regard to a little hiatus in his social career which she had discovered, he fondly gazed upon the innocent perfections of his petted sister Milly, leaving the baffled Baroness secretly raging! That young lady was a gentle and unspoiled Maud, serene and stately, with wondering liquid blue eyes, a complexion of blended alabaster and rose, and of that golden hair which has been the poet's theme for unending ages!

The unruffled current of Millicent Grosvenor's days had glided by as "rivers that water the woodlands, — darkened with shadows of earth, — yet, — reflecting an im age of heaven!" It was the pride of Madame la Baronne Saint-Nazaire that in replacing the late Lady Ermyntrude Wrexham, as the social guardian of her child, she had modeled Milly Grosvenor's manners upon her own! She hoped that she had imparted to her that serenely unconscious self-possession which would carry the stately young girl fearlessly out into the incandescent light shining from the British Throne ! The formal drill of Vanity Fair's most golden circle had, however, left the Honorable Millicent Grosvenor's unspoiled heart as sweetly attuned to Nature's harmonies as any wind-swept forest harp! All unheeded fell these golden grains of worldly advice upon the heart of the young girl whose bright promise was still throbbing in her unruffled breast, and shining in her tender eyes!

When Ethel Harcourt sagely observed, "We must ob literate all the real feelings, my darling! Society demands only a perfect repose, — the due ceremonies, and the un prejudiced intelligence of a Metternich or a Tallyrand," the gentle girl copied her brother's wisdom, and smiled sweetly, — saying nothing! And, the Baroness fancied that the seeds of wisdom had fallen upon fertile ground! On this particular evening, Charley Grosvenor disarmed Madame la Baronne by all the courtly grace of a "Steenie" Buckingham! When the feast had slowly passed in review, with graceful murmurs as to an impend ing trip to Algeria, Illyria, Bulgaria or some other, as yet, "un-Cookified" corner of the earth, the handsome giant "cut out" his pretty sister from under the guns of the watchful Baroness. A little graceful flattery left the Baroness all smiles and blushes, for she was still a woman at heart!

"Of course, Milly darling! I'll stand by Kathleen and Kenneth. Do you now bid her just know nothing, sav nothing, do nothing! I'll be off to the club now and see poor old Ken! You and I are both free agents! Just let us all say nothing! Not a word to the Baroness — and then, the old banker will be left powerless to break our set of fours. We must not be trapped separately. I'll come to you in the early morning! Do you ask Kathleen Lawrie here to luncheon, and, I'll be on hand with all the last news ! We will have a little star chamber council in your own boudoir, to-morrow! Voila tout!" With which cheery advice, he lightly set out toward the Travelers' Club, for the hour of ten was now not far off! For once in his life, Charley Grosvenor realized all the advantages of golden and silver spoons in man's social career!

As he lit his segar, he ruminated over the situation, to the accompaniment of the wheels of the cab! Secure in vested wealth ; lifted up by the laws of caste, he suddenly realized the deep gulf separating Kenneth Gryffyth, — Financial Expert, from the only heiress of that leviathan of the financial world, James Lawrie, Esq., — a man of many millions ! "Poor old Ken! It's only the absence of 'tin,' — that's all!" mused Grosvenor; "for, as to blood, — the advantage is rather with Ken, — by long odds !" "Rank there is not, — with either side, — but, now-a days," he sighed, "the rank is but the guinea stamp! As to blood — there were proud Gryffyths, harping, — reign ing, — and fighting, — when the bold Tristan and the hapless Iseult lived and loved! That their line of blue Welsh blood runs back to the ante-deluge epoch, I'm told, — and — certainly, the Lawries were recently only 'breekless Highlanders,' with a strong yearning toward other peo ple's stray cattle!

They are only reformed border har riers ! "Now!" he joyously exclaimed, "their descendant takes only financial scalps, and this canny anglicized Scot fights within the law and grabs the lucre of the dumb ox like British Investor! I would like to do the old moss trooper a shrewd turn! Kenneth and Kathleen shall have their day, if the house of Wrexham can aid! "Why not? Ken's a very fine fellow! He was the star of Trinity in my time — and, — faint heart never won fair lady ! There's the old bitterness, though," — mused handsome Charley. " 'The sins of the fathers !' Gryffyth Gryf fyth won the bright-eyed prize, the lovely Marjorie, and, — the aspiring Welsh blood comes back again to battle with the cool old Scottish millionaire for another prize. It will be a tough struggle, I fear! Kenneth has the 'odds o' the weaker side!'" He recalled his own early schoolboy days, when Ken neth Gryffyth and himself drank in, most unwillingly, the polyglot tide of lore and language, at Lausanne!

They had slowly acquired French, German and Italian together there, under the patient regime of the thrifty Swiss school masters determined to attract British families of the high er class! Charley had not forgotten the still beautiful widow of the Welsh clergyman who now slept in the little God's acre at Montreux! "Those were dear and pleasant days," he sighed. "Dear old days, — after all!" There was still a bond of tender union between the young men who had loved but one mother, for Charley Grosvenor himself was motherless when his first ideal of womanly beauty was sweet Marjorie Gryffyth. And the old days now came back upon him with a freshened charm as he drove along, eager to battle for her son, with that cautious old octopus James Lawrie, Esq. He had always loved his bright junior! "I hope the old duffer will not succeed in displacing Ken at Benjamin's. It would be too cruel a revenge!" mused Charley, — as he recalled the grave words of his friend's letter, telling of frequent and ominous confer ences of the Scottish millionaire with the heads of the heaviest firm of Exchange sellers in the London world.

"What can it all mean?" mused Charley. "Well! I'll soon find out now !" he cried, as he leaped out of his carriage at the Travelers.' The Honorable Charles Grosvenor had also an espe cially tender spot in his heart for that most radiant young beauty, Kathleen Lawrie, and he sighed as he thought of the tears veiling those wonderful Irish-gray eyes which had gazed on the Matterhorn and the peerless Jungfrau sq often, in his delighted company, — during the stolen days of the summer which had brought Kenneth, his friend, to the feet of the young goddess. "What chance has that poor girl against this surface varnished old Rob Roy?" growled Charley. "There is no doubt the old fox has dug up some damn ing proofs, 'stronger than Holy Writ!' Now, — for Ken neth's tale of woe! What can he do to protect her?

Noth ing, I fear!" And the handsome young giant gloomily sought the private room to which he had bidden the anxious lover to be ushered. A glance at his friend caused Charley Grosvenor to stand there, cigar in mouth, rooted in astonishment! For Kenneth Gryffyth's face was radiant with an un mistakably joyous excitement! There was the ring of exultation in Gryffyth's suppressed whoop of welcome! "By Jove!" muttered Charley, "the poor beggar's los ing his wits! Must have in Sir James Simpson! Bro mides, — and, — all that sort of thing!" And, then, "more in sorrow than in anger," he dropped into a seat, and lugubriously demanded: "Well! old fel low! What's the worst of it, now? Out with it!" His muscular superiority caused him to ignore the En glishman's first resort — the poker! Was he closeted with a genial lunatic?

For Kenneth Gryffyth laughed a ringing peal of dia bolic significance. Here was no sighing lover! "Here you are, old chap! Presto! Change! Just read that! It was handed to me, just before I left the Benja min's stronghold, by a withered old 'dhuine wassail' of James Lawrie, Esq. ! And, by the piper that played be fore Moses, — I am, as your Yankee friends would say, — • 'up a tree!'" Gryffyth was whistling gayly like an escaped schoolboy! With dilated eyes, Lord Wrexham's heir deliberately scanned the few lines of a ceremonial note, addressed in a stiffly formal hand, to "Kenneth Gryffyth, Esq." "By Heavens!" faltered Grosvenor, "I must change the jddress on the Bromide bottle! The old moss trooper himself has succumbed to the 'auri sacra fames !' " And then, Bret Harte's line recurred to him: "Do I sleep, — do I dream?" as he read the letter.

He joined his visitor in a grimly-echoing burst of sardonic laughter! "Beware of the Greeks bearing gifts. Ken!" he slowly said, as he handed back the letter. "You should get a good bit of brass for that thing down at Madame Tus saud's as a curiosity. Come! Read me the riddle! I won't tell you my budget of news 'till you have cut this gordian knot!" "I'm in the dark, Charley! I give it up, — as the Christy minstrels say!" rejoined the Financial Expert. "Listen! Here I have been dodging this old Scythian for a week, and Goldschmid (our junior partner), has kindly warned me that James Lawrie, of that ilk, — his Anglo-Scottish Magnificence, — has been looking up my lifelong record for a couple of weeks! He has even used 'Private Inquiry' methods! "The Bond and Assurance Company notified me that the most energetic inquiries were being pushed as to all my antecedents and habits !

I got this from an old chum, high in their councils! He has also been correspond ing with the Registrary at Cambridge." The young nobleman's face grew solemn as Gryffyth read: "No. 12 Belgrave Square. "London, January 15, 1879. "Mr. James Lawrie presents his compliments and re quests the pleasure of your company at dinner to-morrow at seven. Mr. Kenneth Gryffyth will confer a favor by calling at six p. m. for a preliminary conference, upon a business matter, of the utmost importance. Please an swer by bearer. "For Kenneth Gryffyth, Esq. (of Benjamin and Sons)." Not a word would Charley Grosvenor answer until he saw the spirit bottles, cigars and soda flasks arrayed be fore his guest. "Ken, my boy!" he slowly said, after a deliberate as suaging of a sudden feverish thirst, — "I am glad that Burking has gone out of fashion!