The Strand 1912-4 Vol-XLIII № 256 April mich

THE STRAND MAGAZINE Vol. xliii. APRIL, 1912. No. 256. THE LOST WORLD. Being an account or tne recent amazing adventures or Professor George E. Challenger, Lord John Roxton, Professor Summerlee. and Mr. E. D. Malone of tne \" Daily Gazette. BY ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE. Illustrated by Harry Rountree and tne late TVlaple I have wrought my simple plan If I give one hour of joy To the boy who's half a man, Or the man who's half a boy. FOREWORD. — Mr. E. D. Malone desires to stale thai both the injunction for restraint and the libel action have been withdrawn unreservedly by Professor G. E. Challenger, who, being satisfied that no criticism or comment in this book is meant in an offensive spirit, has guaranteed that he will place no impediment to its publication and circulation. Mr. E. D. Malone would wish also to express his gratitude to Mr. Patrick L. Forbes, of Rosslyn Hill. Hampstead, for the skill and sympathy with which he has worked up the sketches which were brought from South America, and also to Mr. W. Ransford, of Elm Row, Hampstead, for his valuable expert help in dealing with the photographs.— Streatham, 1912. CHAPTER I. would have been the thought of such a father- \" THERE ARE HEROISMS ALL ROUND us.\" in-law. I am convinced that he really HUNGERTON, her father, believed in his heart that I came round to really was the most tactless the Chestnuts three days a week for the person upon earth — a fluffy, pleasure of his company, and very especially feathery, untidy cockatoo of to hear his views upon bimetallism — a a man, perfectly good-natured, subject upon which he was by way of being but absolutely centred upon an authority. his own silly self. If any- For an hour or more that evening I listened thing could have driven me from Gladys, it to his monotonous chirrup about bad money Vol. xliii. — 25. Copyright, 1912, by Arthur Conan Doyle.

364 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. driving out good, the token value of silver, the depreciation of the rupee, and the true standards of exchange. \" Suppose,\" he cried, with feeble violence, \" that all the debts in the world were called up simultaneously and immediate payment insisted upon. What, under our present conditions, would happen then ? \" I gave the self-evident answer that I should be a ruined man, upon which he jumped from his chair, reproved me for my habitual levity, which made it impossible for him to discuss any reasonable subject in my presence, and bounced off out of the room to dress for a Masonic meeting. At last I was alone with Gladys, and the moment of fate had come ! All that evening I had felt like the soldier who awaits the signal which will send him on a forlorn hope, hope of victory and fear of repulse alternating in his mind. She sat with that proud, delicate profile of hers outlined against the red curtain. How- beautiful she was ! And yet how aloof! We had been friends, quite good friends ; but never could I get beyond the same comradeship which I might have established with one of my fellow- reporters upon the Gazette —perfectly frank, perfectly kindly, and perfectly un- sexual. My instincts arc all against a woman being too frank and at her ease with me. It is no com- \"pTIment to a man. Where the real sex feeling begins, timidity and distrust are its companions, heritage from old wicked days when love and violence went often hand in hand. The bent head, the averted eye, the faltering voice, the wincing figure—these, and not the unshrinking gaze and frank reply, are the true signals of passion. Even in my short life I had learned as much as that—or had inherited it in that race- memory which we call instinct. were there. But I was sadly conscious that up to now I had never found the secret of drawing it forth. However, come what might, I should have done with suspense and bring matters to a head to-night. She could but refuse me, and better be a repulsed lover than an accepted brother. So far my thoughts had carried me, and I was about to break the long and uneasy silence when two critical dark eyes looked round at me, and the proud head was shaken in smiling reproof. \" I have a presentiment that you are going to propose, Ned. I do wish you wouldn't, for things are so much nicer as

THE LOST WORLD. 365 \" One must wait till it comes.\" \" But why can't you love me, Gladys ? Is it my appearance, or what ? \" She did unbend a little. She put forward whole-hearted confidence. How primitive and bestial it looks when you put it down in black and white ! And perhaps after all it is only a feeling peculiar to myself. Anyhow, a hand—such a gracious, stooping attitude it she sat down. asysH*:- 'BUT WHY CAN'T YOU LOVE ME, GLADYS?\" was—and she pressed back my head. Then she looked into my upturned face with a very wistful smile. \" No, it isn't that,\" she said at last. \" You're not a conceited boy by nature, and so I can safely tell you that it is not that. It's deeper.\" \" My character ? \" She nodded severely. \" What can I do to mend it ? Do sit down and talk it over. No, really I won't, if you'll only sit down ! \" She looked at me with a wondering distrust which was much more to my mind than her \" Now tell me what's amiss with me.\" \" I'm in love with somebody else,\" said she. It was my turn to jump out of my chair. \" It's nobody in particular,\" she explained, laughing at the expression of my face, \" only an ideal. I've never met the kind of man I mean.\" \" Tell me about him. What does he look like ? \" \" Oh, he might look very much like you.\" \" How dear of you to say that! Well, what is it that he does that I don't do ? Just say the word—teetotal, vegetarian.

366 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. aeronaut, Theosophist, Superman—I'll have a try at it, Gladys, if you will only give me an idea what would please you.\" She laughed at the elasticity of my charac ter. \" Well, in the first place, I don't think my ideal would speak like that,\" said she. \" He would be a harder, sterner man. not so ready to adapt himself to a silly girl's whim. But above all he must be a man who could do, who could act, who would look Death in the face and have no fear of him—a man of great deeds and strange experiences. It is never a man that I should love, but always the glories he had won, for they would be reflected upon me. Think of Richard Burton ! When I read his wife's life of him I could so understand her love. And Lady Stanley ! Did you ever read the wonderful last chapter of that book about her husband ? These are the sort of men that a woman could worship with all her soul and yet be the greater, not the less, on account of her love, honoured by all the world as the inspirer of noble deeds.\" She looked so beautiful in her enthusiasm that I nearly brought down the whole level of the interview. I gripped myself hard, and went on with the argument. \" We can't all be Stanleys and Burtons,\" said I. \" Besides, we don't get the chance —at least, I never had the chance. If I did I should try to take it.\" \" But chances are all around you. It is the mark of the kind of man I mean that he makes his own chances. You can't hold him back. I've never met him, and yet I seem to know him so well. There are heroisms all round us waiting to be done. It's for men to do them, and for women to reserve their love as a reward for such men. Look at that young Frenchman who went up last week in a balloon. It was blowing a 'gale of wind, but because he was announced to go he insisted on starl ing. The wind blew him one thousand five hundred miles in twenty-four hours, and he fell in the middle of Russia. That was the kind of man I mean. Think of the woman he loved, and how other women must have envied her ! That's what I should like—to be envied for my man.\" \" I'd have done it to please you.\" \" But you shouldn't do it merely to please me. You should do it because you can't help it, because it's natural to you—because the man in you is crying out for heroic expres sion. Now, when you described the Wigan coal explosion last month, could you not have gone down and helped those people, in spite of the choke-damp ? \" \" I did.\" \" You never said so.\" \" There was nothing worth bucking about.\" • \" I didn't know.\" She looked at me with rather more interest. \" That was brave of you.\" '' I had to. If you want to write good copy you must be where the things are.\" \" What a prosaic motive ! It seems to take all the romance out of it. But still,

THE LOST WORLD. 367 any which may come within sight of him, that he breaks away as I did from the life that he knows, and ventures forth into the wonderful mystic twilight land where lie the great adventures and the great rewards. Behold me, then, at the office of the Daily Gazette, on the staff of which I was a most insignificant unit, with the settled determina tion that very night, if possible, to find the quest which should be worthy of my Gladys ! Was it hardness, was it selfishness, that she should ask me to risk my life for her own glorification ? Such thoughts may come to middle age, but never to ardent three-and- twenty in the fever of his first love. CHAPTER II. \" TRY YOUR LUCK WITH PROFESSOR CHAL LENGER.\" 1 ALWAYS liked McArdle, the crabbed old, round-backed, reel-headed news editor, and 1 rather hoped that he liked me. Of course, 15eaumont was the real boss, but he lived in the rarefied atmosphere of some Olympian height from which he could distinguish nothing smaller than an international crisis or a split in the Cabinet. Sometimes we saw him passing in lonely majesty to his inner sanctum with his eyes staring vaguely and his mind hovering over the Balkans or the Persian Gulf. He was above and beyond us. But McArdle was his first lieutenant, and it was he that we knew. The old man nodded as I entered the room, and he.pushed his spectacles far up on his bald forehead. \" Well, Mr. Malone, from all I hear, you seem to be doing very well/' said he, in his kindly Scotch accent. I thanked him. \" The colliery explosion was excellent. So was the Southwark fire. You have the true descreeptive touch. What did you want to see me about ? \" \" To ask a favour.\" He looked alarmed and his eyes shunned mine. \" Tut! tut! What is it ? \" \" Do you think, sir, that you could pos sibly send me on some mission for the paper ? I would do my best to put it through and get you some good copy.\" \" What sort of a meesion had you in your mind, Mr. Malone ? \" \" Well, sir, anything that had adventure and danger in it. I really would do my very best. The more difficult it was the better it would suit me.\" \" You seem very anxious to lose your life.\" \" To justify my life, sir.\" \" Dear me, Mr. Malone, this is very—very exalted. I'm afraid the day for this sort of thing is rather past. The expense of the ' special meesion' business hardly justifies the result, and, of course, in any case it would only be an experienced man with a name that would command public confidence who would get such an order. The big blank spaces in the map are all being filled in, and there's no room for romance anywhere. Wait a bit,

368 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. Assistant, 1892. Assistant-Keeper of Com parative Anthropology Department, 1893. Resigned after acrimonious correspondence same year. Winner of Crayston Medal for Zoological Research. Foreign Member of' —well, quite a lot of things, about two inches of small type—' Societ6 Beige, American Academy of Sciences, La Plata, etc., etc. Ex-President Palasontological Society. Sec tion H, British Association '—so on, so on !— ' Publications : \" Some Observations Upon a Series of Kalmuck Skulls \" ; \" Outlines of Vertebrate Evolution\"; and numerous papers, including \" The Underlying Fallacy of Weiss- mannism,\" which caused heated discussion at the Zoological Congress of Vienna. Recrea tions : Walking, Alpine climbing. Address : Enmore Park. Kensington, W.' \" There, take it with you. I've nothing more for you to-night.\" I pocketed the slip of paper. \" One moment, sir,\" I said, as I realized that it was a pink bald head, and not a red face, which was fronting me. \" I am not very clear yet why I am to interview this gentleman. What has he done ? \" The face flashed back again. \" Went to South America on a solitary expedeetion two years ago. Came back last year. Had undoubtedly been to South America, but refused to say exactly where. Began to tell his adventures in a vague way, but somebody started to pick holes, and he just shut up like an oyster. Something won derful happened—or the man's a champion liar, which is the more probable supposeclion. Had some damaged photographs, said to be fakes. Got so touchy that he assaults anyone who asks questions, and heaves reporters doun the stairs. In my opinion he's just a homicidal megalomaniac with a turn for science. That's your man, Mr. Malonc. Now, off you run, and see what you can make of him. You're big enough to look after yourself. Anyway, you are all safe. Em ployers' Liability Act, you know.\" A grinning red face turned once more into a pink oval, fringed with gingery fluff; the interview was at an end. I walked across to the Savage Club, but instead of turning into it I leaned upon the railings of Adelphi Terrace and gazed thought fully for a long time at the brown, oily river. I can always think most sanely and clearly in the open air. I took out the list of Pro fessor Challenger's exploits, and I read it over under the electric lamp. Then I had what I can only regard as an inspiration. As a Pressman, I felt sure from what I had been told that I could never hope to get into touch with this cantankerous Professor. But these recriminations, twice mentioned in his skeleton biography, could only mean that he was a fanatic in science. Was there not an exposed margin there upon which he might be accessible ? I would try. I entered the club. It was just after eleven, and the big room was fairly full, though the

THE LOST WORLD. I can hardly claim to take serious notice of anything that I can see with my naked eye. I'm a frontiersman from the extreme edge of the Knowable, and I feel quite out of place when I leave my study and come into touch with all you great, rough, hulking creatures. I'm too detached to tajk scandal, and yet at scientific conversaziones I have heard some thing of Challenger, for he is one of those men whom nobody can ignore. He's as clever as they make \"em—a full-charged battery of force and vitality, but a quarrelsome, ill- conditioned faddist, and unscrupulous at that. He had gone the length of faking some photographs over the South American business.\" \" You say he is a faddist. What is his particular fad ? \" \" He has a thousand, but the latest is something about Weissmann and Evolution. He had a fearful row about it in Vienna, I believe.\" \" Can't you tell me the point ? \" \" Not at the moment, but a translation of the proceedings exists. We have it filed at the office. Would you care to come ? \" \" It's just what I want. I have to inter view the fellow, and I need some lead up to him. It's really awfully good of you to give me a lift. I'll go with you now, if it is not too late.\" Half an hour later I was seated in the newspaper office with a huge tome in front of me, which had been opened at the article :' Weissmann versus Darwin,\" with the sub heading, '• Spirited Protest at Vienna. Lively Proceedings.\" My scientific education having been somewhat neglected, I was unable to follow the whole argument, but it was evident that the English Professor had handled his subject in a very aggressive fashion, and had thoroughly annoyed his Continental colleagues. \" Protests,\" \" Uproar,\" and \" General appeal to the Chairman\" were three of the first brackets which caught my eve. Most of the matter might have been written in Chinese for any definite meaning that it conveyed to my brain. \" I wish you could translate it into English for me,\" I said, pathetically, to my help mate. \" Well, it is a translation.\" \" Then I'd better try my luck with the original.\" \" It is certainly rather deep for a layman.\" \" If I could only get a single good, meaty sentence which seemed to convey some sort vjf definite human idea, it would serve my turn. Ah, yes, this one will do. I seem in a vague way almost to understand it. I'll copy it out. This shall be my link with the terrible Professor.\" \" Nothing else I can do ? \" \"Well, yes; I propose to write to him. If I could frame the letter here, and use your address, it would give atmosphere.\" \" We'll have the fellow round here making a row and breaking the furniture.\" \" No, no; you'll see the letter—nothing

373 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \" Tickled, indeed ! He's much more likely to do the tickling. Chain mail, or an Ameri can football suit—that's what you'll want. Well, good-bye. I'll have the answer for you here on Wednesday morning—if he ever deigns to answer you. He is a violent, dangerous, cantankerous character, hated by everyone who comes across him, and the butt of the students, so far as they dare take a liberty with him. Perhaps it would be best for you if you never heard from the fellow at all.\" CHAPTER III. \" HE IS A PERFECTLY IMPOSSIBLE PERSON.\" MY friend's fear or hope was not destined to be realized. When I called on Wednesday there was a letter with the West Kensington postmark upon it, and my name scrawled across the envelope in a handwriting which looked like a barbed-wire railing. The con tents were as follows :— \" Enmore Park, W. \"SiR,—I have duly received your note, in which you claim to endorse my views, although I am not aware that they are dependent upon endorsement cither from you or anyone else. You have ventured to use the word ' speculation ' with regard to my statement upon the subject of Darwinism, and I would call your attention to the fact that such a word in such a connection is offensive to a degree. The context convinces me, however, that you have sinned rather through ignorance and tactlessness than through malice, so I am content to pass the matter by. You quote an isolated sentence from my lecture, and appear to have some difficulty in understanding it. I should have thought that only a sub-human intelligence could have failed to grasp the point, but if it really needs amplification I shall consent to see you at the hour named, though visits and visitors of every sort are exceedingly distasteful to me. As to your suggestion that I may modify my opinion, I would have you know that it is not my habit to do so after a deliberate expression of my mature views. You will kindly show the envelope of this letter to my man, Austin, when you call, as he has to take every precaution to shield me from the intrusive rascals who call them selves ' journalists.' \" Yours faithfully, \" GEORGE EDWARD CHALLENGER.-'' This was the letter that I read aloud to Tarp Henry, who had come down early to hear the result of my venture. His only remark was, \" There's some new stuff, cuticura or something, which is better than arnica.\" Some people have such extra ordinary notions of humour. It was nearly half-past ten before I had received my message, but a taxicab took me round in good time for my appointment. It was an imposing porticoed house at which we stopped, and the heavily-curtained windows gave every indication of wealth upon the part of this formidable Professor. The door was

THE LOST WORLD. With these encouraging words the lady handed me over to the taciturn Austin, who had waited like a bronze statue of discretion during our short interview, and I was con ducted to the end of the passage. There was a tap at a door, a bull's bellow from within, and I was face to face with the Professor. He sat in a rotating chair behind a broad table, which was covered with books, maps, and diagrams. As I entered, his seat spun masterful. A huge spread of shoulders and a chest like a barrel were the other parts of him which appeared above the table, save for twro enormous hands covered with long black hair. This and a bellowing, roaring, rumbling voice made up my first impression of the notorious Professor Challenger. \" Well ? \" said he, with a most insolent stare. \" What now ? \" I must keep up my deception for at least PROFESSOR CHALLENGER IN HIS STUDY. from a /'AolitfrapA by William Ami/on/. Hampileiid. round to face me. His appearance made me gasp. ' I was prepared for something strange, but not for so overpowering a personality as this. It was his size which took one's breath away—his size and his imposing presence. His head was enormous, the largest I have ever seen upon a human being. I am sure that his top-hat, had I ever ventured to don it, would have slipped over me entirely and rested on my shoulders. He had the face and beard which I associate with an Assyrian bull ; the former florid, the latter so black as almost to have a suspicion of blue, spade- shaped and rippling down over his chest. The hair was peculiar, plastered down in front in a long, curving wisp over his massive fore head. The e\\'es were blue-grey under great black tufts, very clear, very critical, and very a little time longer, otherwise here was evidently an end of the interview. \" You were good enough to give me an appointment, sir,\" said I, humbly, producing his envelope. He took my letter from his desk and laid it out before him. \" Oh, you are the young person who cannot understand plain English, are you ? My general conclusions you are good enough to approve, as I understand ? \" \" Entirely, sir—entirely ! \" I was very emphatic. \" Dear me ! That strengthens my position very much, does it not ? Your age and appearance make your support doubly valu able. Well, at least you are better than that herd of swine in Vienna, whose gregarious

372 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. grunt is, however, not more offensive than the isolated effort of the British hog.\" He glared at me as the present representative of the beast. \" They seem to have behaved abominably,\" said I. \" I assure you that I can fight my own battles, and that I have no possible need of your sympathy. Put me alone, sir, and with my back to the wall. G. E. C. is happiest then. Well, sir, let us do what we can to curtail this visit, which can hardly be agree able to you, and is inexpressibly irksome to me. You had, as I have been led to believe, some comments to make upon the proposition which I advanced in my thesis.\" There was a brutal directness about his methods which made evasion difficult. I must still make play and wait for a better opening. It had seemed simple enough at a distance. Oh, my Irish wits, could they not help me now, when I needed help so sorely ? He trans fixed me with two sharp, steely eyes. \" Come, coKie ! \" he rumbled. \" I am, of course, a mere student,\" said I, with a fatuous smile, \" hardly more, I might say, than an earnest inquirer. At the same time, it seemed to me that you were a little severe upon Weissmann in this matter. Has not the general evidence since that date tended to—well, to strengthen his position ? \" \" What evidence ? \" He spoke with a menacing calm. \" Well, of course, I am aware that there is not any what you might call definite evidence. I alluded merely to the trend of modern thought and the general scientific point of view, if I might so express it.\" He leaned forward with great earnest ness. \" I suppose you are aware,\" said he, check ing off points upon his fingers, \" that the cranial index is a constant factor ? \" \" Naturally,\" said I. \" And that telegony is still sub judice 1\" \" Undoubtedly.\" \" Why, surely ! \" I cried, and gloried in my own audacity. \" And that the germ plasm is different from the parthenogenetic egg ? \" \" Ah, what indeed ? \" I murmured. \" What does it prove ? \" \" But what does that prove ? \" he asked, in a gentle, persuasive voice. \" Shall I tell you ? \" he cooed. \" Pray do.\" \" It proves,\" he roared, with a sudden blast of fury, \" that you are the damnedest impostor in London—a vile, crawling journalist, who has no more science than he has decency in his composition ! \" He had sprung to his feet with a mad rage in his eyes. Even at that moment of tension I found time for amazement at the discovery that he was quite a short man, his head not higher than my shoulder—a stunted Hercules whose tremendous vitality had all run to depth, breadth, and brain.

THE LOST WORLD. 373 and a white fang twinkled in a sneer. \" You won't stand it, eh ? \" \" Don't be such a fool, Professor ! \" I cried. \" What can you hope for ? I'm fifteen stone, It was at that moment that he rushed me. It was lucky that I had opened the door, or we should have gone through it. We did a Catharine-wheel together down the passage. • \"WE WENT WITH A BACK SOMERSAULT TOWN THE KKONT STEPS.\" as hard as naih, and play centre three-quarter every Saturday for the London Irish. I'm not the man \" Somehow we gathered up a chair upon our way, and bounded on with it towards the street. My mouth was full of his beard, our

374 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. arms were locked, our bodies intertwined, and that infernal chair radiated its legs all round us. The watchful Austin had thrown open the hall door. We went with a back somer sault down the front steps. I have seen the two Macs attempt something of the kind at the halls, but it appears to take some practice to do it without hurting oneself. The chair went to matchwood at the bottom, and we rolled apart into the gutter. He sprang to his feet, waving his fists and wheezing like an asthmatic. \" Had enough ? \" he panted. \" You infernal bully ! \" I cried, as I gathered myself together. Then and there we should have tried the thing out, for he was effervescing with fight, but fortunately I was rescued from an odious situation. A policeman was beside us, his notebook in his hand. \" What's all this ? You ought to lie ashamed,\" said the policeman. It was the most rational remark which I had heard in Knmore Park. \" Well,\" he insisted, turning to me, \" what is it, then ? \" \" This man attacked me,\" said I. \" Did you attack him ?\" asked the policeman. The Professorbreathed hardandsaidnothing. \" It's not the first time, either,\" said the policeman, severely, shaking his head. \" You were in trouble last month for the same thing. You've blackened this young man's eye. Do you give him in charge, sir ? \" I relented. \" No,\" said I, \" I do not.\" \" What's that ? \" said the policeman. \" I was to blame myself. I intruded upon him. He gave me fair warning.\" The policeman snapped up his notebook. \" Don't let us have any more such goings-on,\" said he. \" Now, then ! Move on, there, move on ! \" This to a butcher's boy, a maid, and one or two loafers who had collected. He clumped heavily down the street, driving this little flock before him. The Professor looked at me, and there was something humorous at the back of his eyes. \" Come in ! \" said he. \" I've not done with you yet.\" The speech had a sinister sound, but I followed him none the less into the house. The man-servant, Austin, like a wooden image, closed the door behind us. CHAPTER IV. \" IT'S JUST THE VERY BIGGEST THING IN THE WORLD.\" HARPLY was it shut when Mrs. Challenger darted out from the dining-room. The small woman was in a furious temper. She barred her husband's way like an enraged chicken in front of a bulldog. It was evident that she had seen my exit, but had not observed my return. \" You brute, George ! \" she screamed. \" You've hurt that nice young man.\" He jerked backwards with his thumb. \" Here he is, safe and sound behind me.\"

THE LOST WORLD. 375 \" You must behave yourself, dear. Mr. M alone is a Pressman. He will have it all in his rag to-morrow, and sell an extra dozen among our neighbours. ' Strange story of high life'—you felt fairly high on that pedestal, did you not ? Then a sub-title, ' Glimpse of a singular menage.' He's a foul feeder, is Mr. Malone, a carrion eater, like all of his kind—porcus ex grege diaboli— a swine from the devil's herd. That's it, Malone—what ? \" \" You really are intolerable ! \" said I, hotly. He bellowed with laughter. \" We shall have a coalition presently,\" he boomed, looking from his wife to me and puffing out his enormous chest. Then, suddenly altering his tone, \" Excuse this frivolous family badinage, Mr. Malone. I called you back for some more serious purpose than to mix you up with our little domestic pleasantries. Run away, little woman, and don't fret.\" He placed a huge hand upon each of her shoulders. \" All that you say is perfectly true. I should be a better man if I did what you advise, but I shouldn't be quite George Edward Challenger. There are plenty of better men, my dear, but only one G. E. C. So make the best of him.\" He suddenly pave her a resounding kiss, which embarrassed me even more than his violence had done. \" Now, Mr. Malone,\" he con tinued, with a great accession of dignity, \" this way. if you please.\" We re-entered the room which we had left so tumultuously ten minutes before. The Pro fessor closed the door carefully behind us, motioned me into an arm-chair, and pushed a cigar-box under my nose. \" Real San Juan Colorado,\" he said. \" Excitable people like you are the better for narcotics. Heavens ! don't bite it! Cut— and cut with reverence ! Now lean back, and listen attentively to whatever I may care to say to you. If any remark should occur to you, you can reserve it for some more opportune time. \" First of all, as to your return to my house after your most justifiable expulsion \"—he protruded his beard, and stared at me as one who challenges and invites contradiction— \" after, as I say, your well-merited expulsion. The reason lay in your answer to that most officious policeman, in which 1 seemed to discern some glimmering of good feeling upon your part—more, at any rate, than I am accustomed to associate with your profession. In admitting that the fault of the incident lay with you, you gave some evidence of a certain mental detachment and breadth of view which attracted my favourable notice. The sub-species of the human race to which you unfortunately belong has always been below my mental horizon. Your words brought you suddenly above it. You swam up into my serious notice. For this reason I asked you to return with me, as I was minded to make your further acquaintance. You will kindly deposit your ash in the small

376 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. you have given me your promise that my confidence will be respected ? That confi dence, I may say, will be far from complete. But I am prepared to give you a few indica tions' which will be of interest. In the first place, you are probably aware that two years ago I made a journey to South America—one which will be classical in the scientific history of the world ? The object of my journey was to verify some conclusions of Wallace and of Bates, which could only be done by observing their reported facts under the same conditions in which they had themselves noted them. If my expedition had no other results it would still have been noteworthy, but a curious incident occurred to me while there which opened up an entirely fresh line of inquiry. '' You are aware—or probably, in this half-educated age, you are not aware—that the country round some parts of the Amazon is still only partially explored, and that a great number of tributaries, some of them entirely uncharted, run into the main river. It was my business to visit this little-known back-country and to examine its fauna, which furnished me with the materials for several chapters for that great and monu mental work upon zoology which will be my life's justification. I was returning, my work accomplished, when I had occasion to spend a night at a small Indian village at a point where a certain tributary—the name and position of which I withhold—opens into the main river. The natives were Cucama Indians, an amiable but degraded race, with mental powers hardly superior to the average Londoner. I had effected some cures among them upon my way up the river, and had impressed them considerably with my per sonality, so that I was not surprised to find myself eagerly awaited upon my return. I gathered from their signs that someone had urgent need of my medical services, and I followed the chief to one of his huts. When I entered 1 found that the sufferer to whose aid I had been .summoned had that instant expired. He was, to my surprise, no Indian, but a white man ; indeed, I may say a very white man, for he was flaxen-haired and had some characteristics of an albino. He was clad in rags, was very emaciated, and bore every trace of prolonged hardship. So far as I could understand the account of the natives, he was a complete stranger to them, and had come upon their village through the woods alone and in the last stage of exhaus tion. \" The man's knapsack lay beside the couch, and I examined the contents. His name was written upon a tab within it—Maple White, Lake Avenue, Detroit, Michigan. It is a name to which I am prepared always to lift my hat. It is not too much to say that it will rank level with my own when the final credit of this business comes to be apportioned. \" From the contents of the knapsack it was evident that this man had been an artist

THE LOST WORLD. 377 THE PLATEAU AND THE PINNACLE. r. ..i.i a .-!.(-'. t» W.i, f. 117,,', \" Surely these are only crocodiles ? \" \" Alligators ! Alligators ! There is hardly such a thing as a true crocodile in South America. The distinction between them— \" I meant that I could see nothing unusual —nothing to justify what you have saicl.\" He smiled serenely. \" Try the next page,\" said he. I was still unable to sympathize. It was a full-page sketch of a landscape roughly tinted in colour—the kind of painting which an open- air artist takes as a guide to a future more

378 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. elaborate effort. There was a pale-green foreground of feathery vegetation, which sloped upwards and ended in a line of cliffs dark red in colour, and curiously ribbed like some basaltic formations which I have seen. They extended in an unbroken wall right across the background. At one point was an isolated pyramidal rock, crowned by a great tree, which appeared to be separated by a cleft from the main crag. Behind it all, a blue tropical sky. A thin green line of vegetation fringed the summit of the ruddy cliff. \" Well ? \" he asked. \" It is no doubt a curious formation,\" said of a bloated lizard, the trailing tail was fur nished with upward-turned spikes, and the curved back was edged with a high serrated fringe, which looked like a dozen cocks' wattles placed behind each other. In front of this creature was an absurd mannikin. or dwarf in the human form, who stood staring at it. \" Well, what do you think of that ? \" cried the Professor, rubbing his hands with an air of triumph. \" It is monstrous—grotesque.\" \" But what made him draw such an animal ? \" \" Trade gin, I should think.\" THE MONSTER. AVom M:iple White'! Sltttdt-bovlc. I, \" but I am not geologist enough to say that it is wonderful.\" \" Wonderful ! \" he repeated. \" It is unique. It is incredible. No one on earth has ever dreamed of such a possibility. Now the next.\" I turned it over, and gave an exclamation of surprise. There was a full-page picture of the most extraordinary creature that I had ever seen. It was the wild dream of an opium smoker, a vision of delirium. The hea4 was like that of a fowl, the body that \" Oh, that's the best explanation you can give, is it ? \" \" Well, sir, what is yours ? \" \" The obvious one that the creature exists. That it is actually sketched from the life.\" I should have laughed only that I had a vision of our doing another Catharine-wheel down the passage. \" No doubt,\" said I, \" no doubt,\" as on<=. humours an imbecile. \" I confess, however/' I added, \" that this tiny human figure puzzles me. If it were an Indjan we could set i{

THE LOST WORLD. 379 down as evidence of some pigmy race in America, but it appears to be a European in a sun-hat.\" The Professor snorted like an angry buffalo. \" You really touch the limit,\" said he. \" You enlarge my view of the possible. Cere bral paresis 1 Mental inertia ! Wonderful!\" He was too absurd to make me angry. Indeed, it was a waste of energy, for if you were going to be angry with this man you would be angry all the time. I contented myself with smiling wearily. \" It struck me that the man was small,\" said I. \" Look here ! \" he cried, leaning forward and dabbing a great hairy sausage of a finger on to the picture. \" You see that plant behind the animal; I suppose you thought it was a dandelion or a Brussels sprout—what ? Well, it is a vegetable ivory palm, and they run to about fifty or sixty feet. Don't you see that the man is put in for a purpose ? He couldn't really have stood in front of that brute and lived to draw it. He sketched himself in to give a scale of heights. He was, we will say, over five feet high. The tree is ten times bigger, which is what one would expect.\" \" Good heavens ! \" I cried. \" Then you think the beast was Why, Charing Cross station would hardly make a kennel for such a brute ! \" \" Apart from exaggeration, he is certainly a well-grown specimen,\" said the Professor, complacently. \" But,\" I cried, \" surely the whole experi ence of the human race is not to be set aside on account of a single sketch \"—I had turned over the leaves and ascertained that there was nothing more in the book—\" a single sketch by a wandering American artist who may have done it under hashish, or in the delirium of fever, or simply in order to gratify a freakish imagination. You can't, as a man of science, defend such a position as that.\" For answer the Professor took a book down from a shelf. \" This is an excellent monograph by my gifted friend, Ray Lankester,\" said he. \" There is an illustration here which would interest you. Ah, yes, here it is! Tin- inscription beneath it runs: ' Probable appear ance in life of the Jurassic Dinosaur Stego- saurus. The hind leg alone is twice as tall as a full-grown man.' Well, what do you make of that ? \" He handed me the open book. I started as I looked at the picture. In this recon structed animal of a dead world there was certainly a very great resemblance to the .sketch of the unknown artist. \" That is certainly remarkable,\" said I. \" But you won't admit that it is final ? \" \" Surely it might be a coincidence, or this American may have seen a picture of the kind and carried it in his memory. It would be likely to recur to a man in a delirium.\" \" Very good,\" said the Professor, indul gently ; \" we leave it at that. I will now ask you to look at this bone.\" He handed over

38o THE STRAND MAGAZINE. so we will patiently grope round for it. We will now leave the dead American and proceed with my narrative. You can imagine that I could hardly come away from the Amazon without probing deeper into the matter. There were indications as to the direction from which the dead traveller had come. Indian legends would alone have been my guide, for I found that rumours of a strange land were common among all the riverine tribes. You have heard, no doubt, of Curu- puri ? \" \" Never.\" \" Curupuri is the spirit of the woods, talk upon ths subject—and by judicious persuasion and gifts, aided, I will admit, by some threats of coercion, I got two of them to act as guides. After many adventures which I need not describe, and after travelling a distance which I will not mention, in a direction which I withhold, we came at last to a tract of country which has never been described, nor, indeed, visited save by my unfortunate predecessor. Would you kindly look at this ? \" He handed me a photograph—half-plate size. \" The unsatisfactory appearance of it is A DISTANT VIEW OK THE n.ATF.AU. AVom a f'hut'Vruiih by Pi-it/euut- duilleuger. something terrible, something malevolent, something to be avoided. None can describe its shape or nature, but it is a word of terror along the Amazon. Now all tribes agree as to the direction in which Curupuri lives. It was the same direction from which the American had come. Something terrible lay that way. It was my business to find out what it was.\" \" What did you do ? \" My flippancy was all gone. This massive man compelled one's attention and respect. \" I overcame the extreme reluctance of the \"Hves—a reluctance which extends even to due to the fact,\" said he, \" that on descending the river the boat was upset and the case which contained the undeveloped films was broken, with disastrous results. Nearly all of them were totally ruined—an irreparable loss. This is one of the few which partially escaped. This explanation of deficiencies or abnormalities you will kindly accept. There was talk of faking. I am not in a mood to argue such a point.\" The photograph was certainly very off- coloured. An unkind critic might easily have misinterpreted that dim surface. It was a dull grey landscape, and as I gradually

THE LOST WORLD. 381 deciphered the details of it I realized that it represented a long and enormously high line of cliffs exactly like an immense cataract seen in the distance, with a sloping, tree-clad plain in the foreground. \" I believe it is the same place as the painted picture,\" said I. \" It is the same place,\" the Professor answered. \" I found traces of the fellow's camp. Now look at this.\" It was a nearer view of the same scene, though the photograph was extremely defec tive. I could distinctly see the isolated, tree- crowned pinnacle of rock which was detached from the crag. \" I have no doubt of it at all,\" said I. \" Well, that is something gained,\" said he. \" We progress, do we not ? Now, will you please look at the top of that rocky pinnacle ? Do you observe something there ? \" \" An enormous tree.\" \" But on the tree ? \" \" A large bird,\" said I. He handed me a lens. \" Yes,\" I said, peering through it, \" a large bird stands on the tree. It appears to have a considerable beak. I should say it was a pelican.\" \" I cannot congratulate you upon your eyesight,\" said the Professor. \" It is not a pelican, nor, indeed, is it a bird. It may interest you to know that I succeeded in shooting that particular specimen. It was the only absolute proof of my experiences which I was able to bring away with me.\" \" You have it, then ? \" Here at last was tangible corroboration. \" I had it. It was unfortunately lost with so much else in the same boat accident which ruined my photographs. I clutched at it as it disappeared in the swirl of the rapids, and part of its wing was left in my hand. I was insensible when washed ashore, but the miserable remnant of my superb specimen was still intact; I now lay it before you.\" From a drawer he produced what seemed to me to be the upper portion of the wing of a large bat. It was at least two feet in length, a curved bone, with a membranous veil beneath it. \" A monstrous bat! \" I suggested. \" Nothing of the sort,\" said the Professor, severely. \" Living, as I do, in an educated and scientific atmosphere, I could not have conceived that the first principles of zoology were so little known. Is it possible that you do not know the elementary fact in com parative anatomy, that the wing of a bird is really the forearm, while the wing of a bat consists of three elongated fingers with mem branes between ? Now, in this case, the bone is certainly not the forearm, and you can see for yourself that this is a single membrane hanging upon a single bone, and therefore that it cannot belong to a bat. But if it is neither bird nor bat, what is it ? \" My small stock of knowledge was exhausted. \" I really do not know,\" said I.

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. we heard some very strange noises from above.\" \" But the creature that the American drew ? How do you account for that ? \" \" We can only suppose that he must have made his way to the summit and seen it there. We know, therefore, that there is a way up. We know equally that it must be a very difficult one, otherwise the creatures would have come down and overrun the surrounding country. Surely that is clear ? \" \" I do not think that the problem is a very obscure one,\" said the Professor; \" there can only be the one explanation. South America is, as you may have heard, a granite continent. At this single point in the interior there has been, in some far distant age, a great, sudden volcanic upheaval. These cliffs, I may remark, are basaltic, and there fore plutonic. An area, as large perhaps as Sussex, has been lifted up en bloc with all its living contents, and cut off by perpendicular precipices of a hardness which defies erosion from all the rest of the continent. What is the result ? Why, the ordinary laws of Nature are suspended. The various checks which influence the struggle for existence in the world at large are all neutralized or altered. Creatures survive which would otherwise disappear. You will observe that both the pterodactyl and the stegosaurus are Jurassic, and therefore of a great age in the order of life. They have been artificially conserved by those strange accidental con ditions.\" \"But how do they come to be there ? \" \" But surely your evidence is conclusive. You have only to lay it before the proper authorities.\" \" So, in my simplicity, I had imagined,\" said the Professor, bitterly. \" I can only tell you that it was not so, that I was met at every turn by incredulity, born partly of stupidity and partly of jealousy. It is not my nature, sir, to cringe to any man, or to seek to prove a fact if my wore\", has been doubted. After the first I have not con descended to show such corroborative proofs as I possess. The subject became hateful to me—I would not speak of it. Whei. men like yourself, who represent the foolish curiosity of the public, came to disturb my privacy I was unable to meet them with dignified reserve. By nature I am, I admit, some what fiery, and under provocation I am inclined to be violent. I fear you may have remarked it.\" J nursed my eye and was silent. \" My wife has frequently remonstrated with me upon the subject, .and yet I fancy that any man of honour would feel the same. To-night, however, I propose to give an extreme example of the control of the will over the emotions. I invite you to be present at the exhibition.\" He handed me a card from his desk. \" You will perceive that Mr. Percival Waldron, a naturalist of some popular repute, is announced to lecture at eight-thirty at the Zoological Institute's

From Behind tHe Speaker's CKair, VIEWED BY SIR HENRY LUCY. (NEW SERIES.) Illustrated by E. T. Reed. AS far as the Second Parlia- \" CROSSING ment of King George has sped THE FLOOR OF on its way, it has not witnessed THE HOUSE.\" the incident known in conse crated phrase as \" crossing the floor of the House.\" Put more briefly, if less delicately, this describes the changing of sides. Such an event invariably excites comment, naturally not friendly in the camp deserted. After all, it is not uncommon and has the hear me.\" That, of course, meant they were at that period in the same political camp. Disraeli never had occasion to literally cross the floor of the House. He expended his stock of flamboyant Radicalism on the hustings. Finding it did not lead the way to Westminster, he changed his colours and brought them in flying. There was a time when members who had seen Gladstone sitting on the Treasury Bench with Peel highest prece dent. By strange coincidence, the life-long rivalry of Disraeli and Gladstone was made possible by each in turn crossing the floor of the House. One began his political career a boisterous Radical. The other, as every schoolboy knows, was, for some years after he entered Parl iamen t, \" the rising hope of stern unbend ing Toryism.\" Mr. Gladstone once told me he was seated on a bench immediately behind Disraeli when delivering the historic speech with Us courageous prophecy: \" The time will come when you shall \"DELIVERING THK HISTORIC SPEECH WITH ITS TKOPHECY : 'THE TIME WILL COME WHEN YOU SHALL HEAR MB.'\" found him on j the other side, the chief col league of Pal- merston. Doubt less there was elicited scornful and acrimonious

THE STRAND MAGAZINE. MR. MR. \"TOMMY\" towi.i s—A SKILLED YACHTSMAN. The immcdia'.c predecessor of TOMMY \"the present Pr.rliarr.cnt wit- BOWLFS. nessed two coses of \" crossing the floor of the House.\" Neither individually nor in the aggregate was the result such as to encourage emulation. Mr. \" Tommy \" Bowles, capturing a scat at the General Election of 1910, renounced Mr. Arthur Balfour and all his works. When previously he sat in the House his place on the bench immediately behind that on which Ministers muster was under the Unionist flag. It was now draped in Liberal colours, and Mr. Bowles returning to it could not be said to have crossed the floor of the >use. Everything comes to the man who waits. He had not joined the Liberal Party. The Liberal Party, crossing over in a body, flocked round him. During the Parliamentary recess Mr. Bowles, ever open to con viction, has again altered his course. A skilled yachtsman, accustomed to tacking, he now offers himself as a desirable candidate for a Unionist constituency in search of one. The other SIR JOHN member REES. of the late Parliament who crossed over was Sir John Rees. He had the advantage lacking to Mr. Bowles of effecting the movement in full view of the House, still in Session. Yesterday he was pop ping up from benches to the right of the Speaker's Chair with supplementary questions designed to correct the constitutional inaccuracy of the Irish members, or to rebuke the unpatriotic innuendoes of the friends of India who sat below the Gangway on the Ministerial side. To - day he was seated among the Unionist hier archy, in company with those arch-priests of the order, Lord Winterton and Captain Craig. Some how or o'her the squib proved damp. No one took notice of its going off, the only difference being that thereafter, when the member for Montgomery interposed with one of his pointed supplementary questions, it was the Liberals who jeered instead of the newly- found friends among whom he now sat. On the whole the process did not recommend

FROM BEHIND THE SPEAKER'S CHAIR. 385 transference of Sir John Rees. This was directly due lo the artless manner in which the manoeuvre was effected. One afternoon in June, in the Session of 1904, the member for Oldham was observed standing at the Bar of the House regarding the scene. His accus tomed seat was on the front bench below the had, however, determinate effect important not only to the individual but to the country. On this particular afternoon in June, after standing at the Bar a few minutes, a habit common enough to members entering the House, he, instead of turning to the left and finding himself in his old quarters, lounged LORI) WINTERTON AND CAPTAIN CRAIG, THE ARCH-PKIKSTS OF UNIONISM. Gangway, to the right of the Speaker, whither he had drifted from the bench immediately behind Ministers, whence he delivered his maiden speech. A few weeks earlier, rising from the corner seat below the Gangway to take part in current debate, he became aware of a notable movement. With one accord his colleagues in the Ministerial ranks rose to their feet and quitted the House. He took no notice of a deliberate insult .publicly administered for which no parallel can he found in Parliamentary history. It casually to the right and seated himself on the front bench below the Gangway, a quarter occupied by the Labour members. The movement seemed so casual that no notice was taken of it by the House. Meet ing him in the Lobby later in the evening, I mentioned the circumstance, and was assured that it did not import political intention. He had observed that there was more room on that bench than on his own, and he accordingly filled it. As he averred it, that was doubtless the

386 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. fact. As things turned out, he found his new quarters so conformable to his taste that he remained a permanent tenant. That saunter from the Bar to the Radical bench was the first step on the way to the headship of a Department in the State, a seat in a Liberal Cabinet, and the possibility of even greater things to come. In the House of Lords the A FAR-SEEING crossing of the floor is, at least JUDGE- on the part of one political GENERAL. habitual as going off in good time for dinner. Years ago the Autocrat of the Breakfast Table affirmed that \" Good Americans, when they die, go to Paris.\" It is less of a paradox, more strictly true, that good Liberal M.P.'s, when they are made Peers, go over to the Tory side. In the Commons we have had the Great Pass over following on the disruption of the Liberal Party on the introduction of the first Home Rule Bill of 1886. That was a distinctive move- j ment, result of a break-up of party more complete than any that has taken place since the introduc tion of P'ree Trade by Sir Robert Peel. Individual cases arc rare. ADVOCATE- party, as natural and as One of the earliest in modern times is found in the gyrations of Sir William Marriott. Returned as a Liberal member for Brigh ton, he, after a few Ses sions, \"found salvation,\" joining the Conservatives, at the time in office. He was rewarded by a knight hood and the post of Judge -Advocate - General. This opportunity led to a little sce~c which greatly delighted a crowded House. When, in 1892, the Liberals were returned to power under Mr. Gladstone with a new Home Rule Bill in his breast coat - pocket, Campbell-Bannerman,then plain Mr., was appointed Secretary of Slate for War. One evening in Committee on the Army Estimates, inquiry was made as to how it came to pass that there was no Judge- Ad vocate-General in the Ministry. C.-B., with dangerous twinkle in his eye, rose to explain. said, fixed at the moderate sum of five hundred pounds a year. There was in supplement another five hundred pounds in the form of fees for,professional work. In the preceding year, the position of the Government being obviously shaky, Sir William Marriott got up early on the morning of April ist (the open ing day of the new financial year) and drew his salary in a lump sum. Pocketing it, he proceeded to attack the business of his office

FROM BEHIND THE SPEAKER'S CHAIR. 387 In deference to the position thus gained, the prized corner seat below the Gangway- was reserved for him. Roebuck, entering midway through Questions or at the close of them, formed a pretty habit of standing mutely by the corner seat. In courtesy to old age and in deference to an ancient Par liamentary reputation, Dillwyn at first vacated his seat and \" Tear 'em \" settled himself in it comfortably for the night. A preliminary to this movement was the arrangement of the walking-stick. An ordinary man would have placed it between his knees or beside him. \" Tear \"em,\" truculent as ever, insisted upon laying it full length at the back of the seat, an end accomplished only by mercilessly prodding the two members seated to his left. Looking with autobiographical THE WORM intent over some old letters, TURNS. I find one from Dillwyn enclos ing copy of another written by him to Roebuck which tells how the crisis was approached. Here it is :— \" May 23rd, 1878, \" House of Commons. \" MY DEAR MR. ROEBUCK,—Some time ago I mentioned to you that although I wished to accommodate you by giving up to you the seat which I usually occupy in the House, when you come here, I would ask you to let me know when you intend to come, as other wise I am left without a place ; and as I take rather an active part in the business of the House this often occasions me considerable inconvenience. I understood you to assent to the reasonableness of this request, and upon one occasion you did so inform me. Of late, however, you have not done so, and con sequently I have several times during recent debates been without a place, although I had secured my usual one, as I did not like to prevent you from occupying it. Under these circumstances I hope you will excuse me if I consider the arrangement at an end, and that I shall decline to give you my usual seat should I have secured it. \" I may say that several members who sit on the Opposition side of the House do not like to hear speeches directed against the Opposition and in praise of the Government, such as you almost invariably make, emanat ing from their own side of the House, and they are surprised that you should like to make them from that side, and that I should make way for you on it. Very many repre sentations to this effect have been made to me since your speech this evening, and I cannot say that I am surprised at it. Wishing to act with courtesy to you, I think it right to inform you before you come next to the House that I shall in future decline to vacate for you any place which I may have secured. \" Believe me, yours truly, \" L. DILLWYN.\" Two nights later Roebuck CRISIS. came in, dragging his leaden footsteps in the direction of

SCOUT LAW. By MARY TENNYSON. Illustrated by H. M. Brock, R.I. ALCOLM ERICSON paced the room restlessly from end to e/id—a short distance, after all, for the room was at the back of a house in an un fashionable quarter of London, and was meagrely and shab bily furnished. The man was quite young, under five-and- twenty, and his pale face showed obvious traces of recent severe illness. Presently he began to cough, and then, removing his pipe from his lips, he seated himself by the side of the cheerless, empty grate, and with an involuntary shiver, hunching up his thin, square shoulders, rubbed his chilly hands together. \" It's not really cold,\" he muttered ; \" it's normal May weather, and it's bright enough outside. I'm altogether pulled down, that's what it is.\" Then once more he rose and commenced his monotonous pacing to and fro. \" My legs ache with this idiotic tramping up and down,\" he went on, querulously, \" and yet I can't sit still. He said I should hear by five. It's that now. Spence couldn't have been pulling my leg, surely ? But he's a practical joker. Great Scot, that would be cruel, and he's my oldest friend ! No, no; it's impossible ! Still, he doesn't know how bad things are with me; no one knows. Cleaned out, cleaned out entirely. Half a crown in my pocket; watch gone; doctor and nurse had to be paid. Up against a wall.\" With a stified groan he sat down again. Then, leaning his weary head on the padded back of the chair, he closed his eyes, and for the twentieth time went through the scene of the morning, and weighed the words of Noel Spence, his friend and companion from early boyhood. He had found the walk to Spence's office, in Exeler Street, try his strength severely. He had risen from his bed scarcely a week, and the climb to the top of the dingy house had caused his heart to beat suffocatingly. It was an instinct with Malcolm Ericson to hide his wounds, and even Noel Spence had no inkling of his friend's desperate circumstances. The dramatic agent received him with a warm shake of the hand. \" Ericson ! \" he cried. \" By George, I'm glad to see you on end again, old chap ! Looking so fit, too ! \" Noel Spence was a good man of business, but only superficially observant, and certainly Malcolm's face was flushed and his eyes feverishly bright. \" Heard anything, old chap ? \" the other answered, with a queer, whimsical smile. \" Heard anything about what ? \" \" You've not heard anything, I suppose, Spence ? \" Ericson commenced. \" Why, about the play, of course,\" Ericson

SCOUT LAW. 389 time of her death, and with her came to an end the ample annuity on which they had both subsisted. The boy had adopted litera ture as his profession, with gratifying success at the commencement of his career, but the shock of his mother's death seemed to para lyze his powers for a time, and when he recovered he found the greatest difficulty in earning sufficient to live upon, even in the very poorest manner. His beautiful and popular mother had been lavish in her hospitality, and Malcolm had benefited professionally by being brought into personal contact with publishers and artistic celebrities of all sorts, but he was still on the threshold of what promised to be a brilliant career when she died ; and when, after a year, he was able to resume his labours, he discovered that he had been forgotten. He worked with a will, however, sustained by the perception that the stories and plays he submitted now with no success were in reality superior to those he produced in his novice days. He denied himself almost necessaries, and laboured from morning till night, with the result that, having finished a three-act comedy which he felt to be far and away better than anything he had done pre viously, he succumbed to the acute illness from which he had still scarcely recovered. Ericson had a poor, insufficient meal on returning from Spencc's office, and then he sat down to await the five o'clock post. And as the slow hours dragged away his confident spirit waxed fainter and fainter. And there was Ella, too. Ella, to whom he had been engaged since before the death of his mother three years ago, and who had waited so patiently and had believed in him so loyally. Lately her father had shown distinct signs of irritation at the vague pros pects of his beloved daughter, and Ericson, in his heart, could not blame the old man. Then, with a hissing indrawing of the breath, he started forward in his chair. He had heard the double knock of the postman repeated smartly. Almost every author in his day has known and dreaded the sound, signifying as it does, nineteen times out of twenty, the return of some rejected MS. and the shattering of some air-built castle. The door opened noisily and the slovenly maid-servant entered. \" A letter and a parcel for you, Mr. Ericson. I brought 'em to save you the stairs.\" \" Thanks,\" he responded, curtly, instinc tively averting his face. \" Put them on the table.\" She did so, and he heard the door close after her. For a moment he sat unable to move, and then, setting his teeth grimly, he turned, and uttered a cry of relief. The parcel on the table was obviously not that which he had dreaded to see ; it was appa rently an oblong box, and was addressed to him in writing which he recognized at once as that of Colonel Brewer, Ella's father. The letter was from him also, and a smile

390 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. worth ? \" he continued, breathlessly. \" But she must; surely she must ! But why didn't she write herself ? I shall go mad if I don't hear about the play to-night. But I shall— I must—by the last post. It all depends on that. The old man has lost faith in me, and I can't blame him ; but if they take the play and it succeeds, I can make it right with him. As for my darling, if in her fear of him she has been almost disloyal to me, the chair, Ericson fell into it. On the table lay the fatal large square envelope, and across the top of it, in staring characters, was the name of the theatre at which his play had been under consideration for many weeks. He turned icy cold, and a sickening sense of numbness oppressed his brain. The play had failed, then ; it had come back, as all his other works had come back, for twelve months and more. This, then, was the mean- • \"A LUTTKR AND A PARCEL KOR YOU, MR. EKICSON. I BROUGHT 'KM TO SAVE YOU THE SIAIRS.\" I shall forgive her. I must do that. I cannot live without her.\" Again there came the maid's knock at his door, followed at once by her noisy entry. \" Here's another parcel for you, Mr. Ericson,\" she said, with a grin. \" You're in luck to-day. It's addressed No. 4. instead of 14 ; but my sister is general at No. 4, so she brought it.\" -- The girl hurried out, and, staggering to ing of Noel Spence's roguish, mischievous smile. He knew it was rejected. No love, no success, no money, no friend ; and weak, so weak that tears filled his eyes. He shuddered, and then a wave of over powering dizziness descended upon him anc he fell back in a faint. The sky was glowing with the setting of the sun when Malcolm came to himself and rose to his feet. His cheeks were now flushed

SCOUT LAW. and his eyes gleamed with a feverish light. It would appear that he had dreamed during his period of unconsciousness, for he now spoke aloud in low, decided tones. \" Yes, I'm beaten. There's nothing else for it. ' Only in the world I fill up a place which may be the better supplied when I have made it empty.' Ah, I never thought to apply those words to myself. The world, the world ! I've done with it. It's full of cruelty, chock-full of it, and treachery. Two people I loved; both are false. And I'm tired of it all.\" Afterwards Malcolm Ericson had no recol lection of leaving the house, or whether he walked or rode to gain the goal on which he had fixed his distraught brain. This was a quiet, deep pool, surrounded by trees, on an open common on the outskirts of London. But he knew that throughout the intangible journey his seething brain had been obsessed by one thought—the harshness, the incre dible callousness of the world in connection with himself. While his mother lived, and sustained by her proud appreciation, he had required neither encouragement nor help ; he had received both in lavish measure. But now he seemed to be a target set up for all to shoot at. The men who had enthused over his boyish efforts would not listen to him now; even these people at the theatre had buoyed him up with hopes that his disappointment might be the more crushing. His friend made sport of his sufferings, and the girl he idolized had thrown him over without a word. There was no place for him in such a heartless world as this. He would be better out of it. His mother had believed in a reunion of loving souls, in a blessed hereafter, and had died happy in that belief. If that were so, surely he would not be shut out because he had anticipated by a few days the inevitable. He was ill, too weak to fight against such outrageous odds ; he was practically penniless, and he had no true friend in the world. Presently he found himself crossing the green sward which led directly to the pond ; here and there grew great clumps of flower ing gorse and fresh green bracken, and, walking becoming less mechanical, he was forced to rouse himself in order to avoid falling; but still he progressed slowly and surely. The glow of the sunset had faded, and a placid greyness lay over sky and heath ; through the trees he saw the glint of light upon the gleaming water, and his tired eyes rested thankfully upon it. For a moment he waited, and then, with a sigh—for his strength was nearly exhausted—he moved forward again. But ere he had taken a dozen steps he caught his foot in a tuft of bracken and came to a sudden stop, and as he stopped the sound of subdued sobbing caught his ear. It came from a clump of gorse a few feet to his left, and involuntarily, without con scious intention, directing his steps that way,

39*' THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \"ON THR GROUND LAY A LITTLE LAD OF ABOUT TEN YEARS OK AGE, HIS CURLY HEAD UNCOVERED.\" \" Then sit down, sir. The grass is soft here ; or you can rest on my stick, Scout- fashion, if you like.\" Ericson smiled again at the eager little face. \" I prefer the grass,\" he said, quietly. \" I will rest a minute. My legs seem to have given out.\" The lad assisted him to reach the ground, for he found himself tottering suddenly, and when he looked up he discovered that his little companion was regarding him with the utmost solicitude. \" Have you been ill, sir ? \" he asked. To his sore heart there was something soothing in the unspoken sympathy even of this shabby waif, and Malcolm patted the ground by his side. \" Sit by me,\" he said, \" and tell me again. I'm stupid this evening.\" The lad's countenance crumpled up into a smile. \" You stupid, sir ! Oh, that won't wash ! You stupid, with such eyes as yours. Not much.\" \" Well, anyway, I don't understand your trouble. You're not a Scout, are you ? \" \" No; that's a big part of my trouble,\" the boy responded, his lips beginning to quiver again. \" Why ? \" \" Why, it's this way. I'm not a regular Scout, 'cos mother can't afford to buy the uniform; but I made up my mind to start Scout's work as soon as ever I was ten, and I've obeyed Scout law ever since, until to-day. I ain't told no lies, I ain't cheeked father when he's drunk, or teacher, or anyone.\" \" Nothin',\" the child responded, opening his eyes in astonishment at his companion's density. \" I tell you straight, I've done just nothin',a.nd I've been up since before five.too.\" \" And what have you done to-day ? \" Interested in spite of himself, Ericson clasped his thin hands round his knees and regarded the boy steadily. \" Why did you get up so early ? \" he asked. \" Oh, that ain't early. I help a man to take round the milk from five to seven.\" \" Isn't that doing something ? \" \" Bless you, no ; that's earning money. He pays me two shillings a week.\" \" I took baby out on the heath till school time.\" \" Then what did you do next ? \"

SCOUT LAW. 393 \" And that's nothing ? \" \" Lord, no ; she's our own baby, you see. That don't count.\" The boy hesitated, and his tear-stained cheeks grew crimson. \" Oh ! And then you went home and had your breakfast, I suppose ? \" \" Tell me,\" Ericson persisted. \" Well, sir, I didn't have no exact break fast this morning.\" \" Why was that ? \" Again the child hesitated, and then he blurted out :— \" I can't tell you a lie, sir. There wasn't scarcely enough for mother, so I let her think master hadgiven me something.\" \"And had he?\" \" Well, no, he hadn't, sir; but, honour bright, I didn't tell mother no lie.\" \" And after that what did you do ? \" \"After school I scrubbed out the kitchen, and helped mother with the week's washinV \"And that doesn't count, either ? \" \" No, sir, of course not—not what one does for one's own people. Why should it? And then I came out here to look for a bit of Scout's work, but n o t h i n' has come my way. You see, I can't go far afield; that's our cot tage just off the Vol. <liiL-27. \" ERICSON CLASPED HIS THIN i.i •. \\i M i> Tin-: road there, and mother might want me if father come in obstreperlous.\" \" But if to-day has been what you ca a bad day, what did you do yesterday ? \" Malcolm inquired, a strange sense of comfort warming his empty heart.

394 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. You're a man; you can help people every day of your life. You don't get cast down if things go wrong with you. You're a clever man, but I'm only a little chap, and I've broken the Scout law. It must be my own fault, or the Chief Scout wouldn't have made it a law. He knows we can all do some good to someone every day of our lives if we try hard enough. That's just what I haven't done, I suppose, so I've failed in my duty.\" And then suddenly there came a rush of blinding tears to Ericson's burning eyes. \" My lad,\" he said, tenderly, \" go home and sleep at peace. You have done your bravest work to-day. You have saved me body and soul. The world cannot be so bad while such as you exist. Now give me your hand and help me up.\" The child stretched out his eager little hand, and Ericson stooped and kissed him. \" You have sel me on my feet, laddie,\" he said. \" God bless you.\" He walked a few steps, and then he turned again. The boy stood watching him with awestruck, wondering eyes. \" You live in that cottage,\" he said; \" what's your name ? \" \" Charles Hunt.\" \" Charles Hunt. I shall not forget.\" Gaining the high road, Malcolm waited for a motor-bus. Physically he was worn out, but the black cloud which had shadowed his brain had lifted. \" I have learnt my lesson,\" he muttered. \"I have been self-absorbed; I have shirked the Scout law every day of my life. And this lad breaks his heart over one day's failure. If I can do no good, at least I need not bring extra sorrow upon tnose I still love. I'll fight it out, and if 1 go under it shall not be my fault.\" It was close on nine o'clock when Malcolm, entering his room, turned on the gas and, throwing his cloth cap on the shabby sofa, sat down in his chair. On the table was his unappetizing supper of cold meat, bottled beer, and dry cheese, and by the side of his plate were the two parcels. He set his jaw at the sight of them. And then, squaring his shoulders resolutely, he took up the box which lay on the top of the big envelope, and, cutting the string, removed the paper. His mouth twitched as, pressing the spring, the case opened ; and then he caught his breath with a quick gasp. Some white cotton-wool, which protected the trinkets, 1 been caught up by the spring, and on the top of the turquoise necklet lay a letter in Ella's handwriting. With a stifled cry of joy he seized upon it. \" Dear Love,\" he read. \" I hope you will open the parcel before father's letter. Mal colm, dearest, I have not sent back the ring. I am as much engaged to you as I ever was, but I think it best not to argue with dad. He loves me, and when he sees he is making

SCOUT LAW. 395 \" There, there, old man ! \" the other cried. \" I know. I know, it's bowled you over. Well, your luck has been infernally bad hitherto and you're pulled down. I ought to have prepared you this morning, though, of course, you guessed things were going to hum. Now, just you buck up. I've brought a bottle of cham, ten pounds in gold, and a cheque for the rest. Oh, hang my commis sion ! I don't feed on my best friend. What do you take me for ? Now, then, fill up your glass, my boy ! Here's your health, and a ripping success with—we won't give it a name, that's unlucky; we'll say the comedy.\" At a quarter-past seven the next morning to see you first. Boy, you've got to get that Scout's uniform—here's the money.\" He pressed a sovereign into the little hand, and «.he child's face crimsoned with delight. \" Is it encugh, laddie ? \" \" Oh, yes, sir, more than enough; but why ? \" \" You saved me last night, Charlie, that's why.\" The boy pressed his lips tightly together for an instant, and the tears rushed to his eyes, but he spoke firmly enough as he held out the coin. \" I don't rightly understand you, sir,\" he said. \" I done nothin' for you except help ing you to your feet, and what's that ? But \"HERE'S YOUR HEALTH, AND A RIPPING SUCCESS WITH THE COMEDY.\" Charles Hunt was astonished to find an open taxi standing outside his home when he returned from delivering the milk-cans. In it was seated his companion of the evening before. At the sight of the child Malcolm sprang out, and the lad marvelled at the extra ordinary alteration in him. \" Charlie,\" he cried, extending his hand, \" I've only a few minutes to spare, but I had even if I had, it's breaking the Scout law to receive payment for our services. Take it back, please, sir.\" \" It's not payment,\" Malcolm cried, un steadily. \" I wouldn't insult you, Charlie. It's a present from a friend. And when you're enrolled and properly rigged out, dear lad, you must come and see me. There's my address, and you shall teach me the rest of the Scout law.\"

The Study of Bird- Migration. \" Bird-ringing ana other work of the Com mittee of the British Ornithologists' Cluh. By J. LEWIS BONHOTE, M.A. HAT biennial changes take place in the birds of most countries has been known for centuries, and at the present day the first arrival of the swallow, cuckoo, and nightingale is an event eagerly noted by thousands of people who have otherwise but little interest in, or know ledge of, birds in general. In spite of this interest, ho^vever, it cannot be said that our knowledge of how or why birds migrate is by any means complete. Yet facts, and accurate facts, have been, and are being, accumulated by observers in all parts of the world. The swallow seems to have aroused more curiosity as to its winter habits than any other bird, and we read of no startling state ment about other migrants, excepting, per haps, the cuckoo, which was supposed to simply change its species and become a hawk as winter drew on ! But evidently the problem of how little birds were able to manage long flights from other countries exercised the minds of naturalists consider ably, and about 1740 an ingenious theory was brought forward that possibly the larger birds carried the smaller ones on their backs ! To come to the time when bird migration was first studied seriously—and we can date this as lately as the last quarter of the nineteenth century—the first, and perhaps still the foremost, authority on the subject is the late Herr Gatke, and his large volume, published in 1890, stirred up a lively interest in migration, and directed the energies

THE STUDY OF BIRD-MIGRATION. 397 of many naturalists towards the solution of the questions he raised. These naturalists have since published many theories and suggestions, hut it cannot be said that any of them are entirely proven, and no one has improved to any extent on Gatke's ideas. Gatke's opportunities for observation were unique. Living on the little island of Heligo land—in the direct route of migration—and entirely devoted to his subject, he was able to verify for himself many facts which had until then escaped notice. For instance, he pointed out that birds on migration often flew very high—probably as much as twelve thousand feet (over two miles) above the ground. That they do fly at a great height has been corroborated by astro nomers, who have seen birds flying across the face of the moon at a height of not less than one mile. Gatke's ideas on speed were probably- exaggerated, but only by a theory of a tre mendously swift flight at a high altitude could he account for the fact that certain birds were never, or rarely, seen in the countries between their winter and summer quarters. For instance, he pointed out that the blue-throat, which winters in Africa and breeds in Scandinavia, is but rarely met with in any of the countries On the line of route— viz., Italy, Greece, or Southern Germany ; and when they arrived in Heligoland they came in large flocks and were tired and exhausted ; also they always arrived at the same hour— somewhat late in the morning. He thought it probable that they had left Africa at dusk the previous evening, and by flying at the rate of one hundred and eighty miles an hour would be able to reach Heligoland in the one flight. Between 1880 and 1887 the British Asso ciation granted some money to a special committee for the study of migration, and by means of schedules much information was collected about the birds that are killed annually at our coast-lights ; and although many facts were thus obtained, the observa tions in this respect are almost entirely dependent on weather conditions, and, in fact, generally speaking, it may truthfully be said that the only migration that can be actually seen is that which has partially failed, for it is only when delayed or held back by storms or fog that birds obviously on passage are met with, and become stranded along the coast or in other places where they are not usually found. At the present time we have in England a committee of the British Ornithologists' Club which has been working for the past seven years. This committee receives weekly reports from numerous observers throughout the country during the chief migration seasons, the results of which are published annually. We may now consider the subject of migration itself, what causes it, and how it is accomplished. Generally speaking, there is

398 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. of the year there is a large movement due east to west, the birds continually arriving on our east coasts. The hooded or Royston crow is one of the best examples of this, and. having reached our shores, continues on its westerly course till it reaches the Midlands or farther west, when it turns and continues its journey south, and it is seldom that these migrants cross the Irish Sea into Ireland. In the annual reports published by the Migration Committee of the British Ornitho logists' Club, our commoner summer migrants are subdivided into four groups, accord ing to the coastal area on which they arrive. Roughly speaking, the birds seem to be travelling in two main directions, north-west or north-east. As most of these species are widely distributed across Africa in winter and across Europe in summer, it becomes impossible to state with any cer tainty where any particular bird has come from. Thus, among those arriving on the westerly route we find the wheatear, white- throat, chiffchaff, willow warbler, swallow, martin, sand-martin, and swift; while on the east we find the nightingale, yellow wagtail, tree pipit, red-backed shrike, wryneck, turtle dove, etc., and it may be noted that these eastern arrivals are all common spring migrants in Egypt. This leads us to the question of definite migration routes. Do birds travel in a broad front, or do they follow comparatively narrow aerial highways, and do they follow coast lines when they reach them ? Do they cross the sea on the lines of former continents ? - Do they follow river-valleys, and so on ? The actual track of our yellow wagtail is now, however, well known. The breeding range of this species is restricted to the British Isles and the north-west coast of France, so that when this species is met with on the spring migration we know that its ultimate destination must be the United Kingdom. In winter it is found along the shores of West Africa ; on its way north it appears to follow the coast, and, crossing the Mediterranean near Gibraltar, continues its journey along both sides of the Spanish Peninsula. Those that have taken the easterly route reach the South of France, and there all further trace of them is lost. Those on the west follow the coast closely till between Dieppe and Belgium they turn at right angles and cross the Channel. Once on this side, the sea apparently attracts them no longer, but, spreading out fanwise, they con tinue in a north-westerly direction till they reach their breeding haunts. Advocates of all these various suggestions are to be found, and our only answer is that at present \" we don't know.\" Such knowledge as we possess certainly seems to show that the majority of species travel usually on a broad front. It has also been shown fairly conclusively that river- valleys often contain individuals of many species long after the higher ground has

THE STUDY UF BIRD-MIGRATION. 399 MAP SHOWING THE MIGRATION ROUTES TAKEN BY WELL-KNOWN BRITISH BIRDS. swift. B, the dotted lines, is the tr.ick of the yellow wagtail. C th.it of the nightingale, tree pipit, ied-b;icked shrike, The line A shows the track of the whealear, whitethront, (.hifTchaff, willow warbler, swallow, sand-martin, house-martin, and wryneck, and turtle-dove. D shows the track of migrants passing through to the Continent. Portugal, France, Germany, and Norway, but as yet no attempt has been made to deduce any definite theories from these facts. Mr. Thienemann, so far, is the only person who has published any definite account of his results. He deals in three species—the hooded crow, the black-headed gull, and the stork. Of the first-mentioned bird nine hun dred and nine were ringed and one hundred and eleven have been returned, and these birds have all been recovered round the eastern and southern shores of the Baltic, facts which show very clearly the eastern trend of the autumn movements of this species. One of these birds was recovered after five and a half years ; it was marked on its autumn migration at Rossiten in 1903, and recovered at its breeding quarters near St. Petersburg in 1909. In the case of the black-headed gull, of which forty examples out of six hundred and sixteen have been recovered, we find a totally different state of things. They were all ringed at their breeding-place at Rossiten. They have been recovered at various places along the Baltic and North Sea coast, as far south as the Loire in France, and along the valleys of the Rhine and Rhone, but the majority have been procured due south of Rossiten across Germany, irrespective of mountains, valleys, or rivers, and along the north end of the Adriatic, and following on that line one was procured at Tunis, some thirteen hundred miles from its birthplace. The storks, however, give perhaps the most striking results from ringing. Without excep tion all storks that have been recovered in the first autumn after ringing had travelled in a due south-easterly direction. From Hungary to Palestine no ringed birds have been procured, but from Palestine four have been returned, from Alexandria one. Blue Nile one, Victoria Nyanza one, and no fewer than seven from the Transvaal, Natal, Basutoland, etc.; while of the Hungarian storks (marked by the Hungarian office) no fewer than seventeen have been recorded from the various localities in South Africa. We may therefore take it as practically certain that North German and Hungarian storks travel south-east to Palestine, and thence due south to South Africa. It has further been proved that the majority of those obtained in spring on the.return journey returned to within a few miles of their home. Although this .seems fairly conclusive

430 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. evidence, our knowledge is not yet sufficient. One stork, for instance, during the breeding season was got after two years at a spot four hundred m'les east of its home, and in 1910 a fresh inquiry started by the German Government in Heligoland ringed many Holland and West German storks, and the only one of these which has as yet been re covered came from Spain, from which it would appear that these birds have another and distinct line of migra tion. As regards the actual distance arid age of some of these ringed birds, two of them, when nine months old, were shot about six thousand miles from their birthplace,and one young one in autumn travelled over four hundred miles in two days. ancestors had ever been. None the less, in the course of a few days a fair proportion had returned to their island home. This experience is certainly conclusive as showing that some birds have the power of orientation and of finding their way without the aid of any landmarks or inherited knowledge. By the ringing of birds, therefore, a wide field of discovery is opened up, and before many years are over we may hope by this means to learn more about migra tion than has been accomplished by all previous work. RINGS RfcADY FOR CLIPPING ROUND A BIRD'S I.EI;. Such, then, are some of the facts that have come to light in the short time that this inquiry has been going on. Every year more birds are marked and every year as the schemes are better known more returns come in, so that from this most useful form of inquiry we may soon hope to have accurate information not only on the actual lines of migration, but also on such cognate questions as the rate of flight and the age to which birds may attain. There is still one point left to be further investigated. How do birds find their way ? So far as we are aware, only one experiment has been made on these lines. This was carried out by Dr. Watson, an American, who took seme terns from their nests on a rocky islet near Florida, and, having marked them, released them at sea some eight hundred miles to the north of

Tke P rince an PART III. a Betty. By P. G. WODEHOUSE. Illustrated by Dudley Hardy, R.I THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS IN THE STORY. BENJAMIN SCOBELL, a wealthy American, who holds a gambling concession from the Republic of Mervo. A few years back Mervo had expelled its ruler, Prince Charles, and turned ilself into a Republic. PRINCE JOHN OF MERVO, the late ruler's son, who, quite unaware of Iiis rank, has been living in England under the name of John Maude, is summoned to Mervo by Mr. Scol>ell, who thinks that the restoration of Royalty will increase the attractions of his Casino. BETTY SILVER, Scobell's stepdaughter, who has already met Prince John (as John Mauc'e) in England, is also summoned to Mervo, but learning John Maude's real name, and also that Scobell's object in sending for her is to bring about a marriage between them, she leaves Mervo, but is followed by Prince [ohn. Betty becomes companion to some American tourists named Morrison, and through them again meets an old acquaintance, Lord Arthur Hayling. On reaching England the Morrisons meet John Maude, a friend of Delia Morrison, and invite him to join them at Norworth Court. Here John learns from Betty further details of Scobell's Casino scheme, and returns at once to Mervo. CHAPTER XI. AN TLTIMATUM FROM THE THRONE. H1LE John, in the little steamer from Marseilles, was nearing the end of his impul sive dash across Europe, Mr. Scohell was breakfasting with his sister Marion in the morn ing-room of their villa on the Mervo hillside. A frown of displeasure furrowed Mr. Scobell's brow. \" Marion,\" he was saying, \" who was the fellow with the Jewish name who made an automaton and got into trouble all round through it ? It's on the tip of my tongue.\" \" You mean Frankenstein, dear. He was the hero of a novel by Mrs. Shelley. Accord ing to the story \" \" All right, all right,\" interrupted her brother, rudely. \" I know all that. I only wanted to remember the name. Well, I'm Frankenstein, and this Prince is the monster.\" \" I don't know why you should say that, Bennie,\" protested his sister. \" I'm sure he's a very nice young man.\" \" He's such a nice young man,\" said Mr. Scobell, \" that I'd feel much easier in my mind if I had him tied to a tree by a string, instead of having let him go off all alone to wander around with money enough to buy suppers for all the chorus-girls in London for about ten years.\" Miss Scobell murmured something, which, fortunately, the financier did not bear, about boys being boys. \" People are beginning to ask questions,\" went on Mr. Scobell. \" Old d'Orby didn't dare make a fuss when I worked the abolition of the Republic, but he didn't like it. He wants to be President again, and he's begin ning to get the people stirred up. They're getting ready to start trouble. If the Prince doesn't come back soon and take off his coat and show them that he's there, it'll be the end of him, that's all.\" He smoked his cigar-stump fiercely. \" I'm sure \" began Miss Scobell, when the door opened and a footman appeared.

402 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. had just completed the concluding exercises of a prolonged debauch, and Mr. Scobell, coming face to face with him, saw in his appearance the confirmation of his worst suspicions. \" So you've come back ! \" he growled. John stopped. \" I wanted to see you,\" he said. \" Wanted to see me ? I bet you wanted to see me. Where have you been ? Why isn't Betty with you ? \" John flushed. \" We won't discuss that, if you don't mind,\" he said. Mr. Scobell gasped for utterance. \" Won't ? \" he stammered. \" Well, I'm hanged ! Won't discuss it ! \" He gulped. Then he found connected speech. \" Well ! \" he cried. \" Here, you and 1 have got to have a talk, young man ! You were to find Betty and bring her back and marry her, weren't you ? Well, why haven't you done it ? \" John stared. Understanding was coming slowly to him. \" I fixed this thing up,\" continued Mr. Scobell, \" and it's got to go through. I fetched Betty over here to marry you, and she's got to marry you. I explained the whole thing to her, but, being a fool girl, she tried to get out of it. But she's got to come back, and I was chump enough to think that, when you went away, you meant to find her and fetch her back. Instead of which you go running loose all over London with my money, and \" John cut through his explanations with a sudden sharp cry. A blinding blaze of under standing had flashed upon him. He under stood everything now. Every word that Betty had spoken, every gesture that she had made, had become amazingly clear. Suddenly his mind began to work quietly and coolly. He looked at the heated financier. \" Wait! \" he said, and Mr. Scobell stopped in mid-sentence. \" I found Miss Silver,\" he went on. \" You found her ? \" The wrath died out of Mr. Scobell's face. \" Good boy ! Forget anything I may have said in the heat of the moment, Prince ! I thought you'd been on the toot in London. So you found her ? \" \" Yes. And she told me some of the things you said to her about me. They opened my eyes. Until I heard them I had not quite understood my position. I do now. You said that I was your employe.\" \" It wasn't intended for you to hear,\" said Mr. Scobell, handsomely, \" and Petty shouldn't have handed it to you. I don't wonder you feel hurt.\" \" Don't apologize. You were quite right. I was a fool not to see it before. You might have added that I was nothing more than a decoy for a gambling-hell.\" \" Oh, come. Prince ! \" He felt in his vest- pocket. \" Have a good cigar,\" he said. John waved aside the olive-branch.

THE PRINCE AND BETTY. 403 restlessness. Mcrvo had become a prison. But he must stay in it till the Casino business shoulti be settled. Presently there came a note from Mr. Scobell. It was brief. \" Be sen sible,\" it ran. John tore it up. It was on the same evening that definite hostilities may be said to have begun. Between the palace and the market-place there was a narrow street of flagged stone, which was busy during the early part of the day, but deserted after sundown. Along this street, at about seven o'clock, John was strolling with a cigarette, when he was aware of a man crouching, with his back towards him. So absorbed was the man in some thing which he was writing on the stones that he did not hear John's approach, and the latter, coming up from behind, was enabled to see over his shoulder. In large letters of chalk he read the words, \" Conspuez \"IN LARGK LETTERS OF CHALK HE KKAD THE WORDS, 'CONSPUEZ LK PRINCK.\"' le Prince.\" John's knowledge of French was not pro found, but he could understand this, and it annoyed him. As he looked the man, squatting on his heels, bent forward. John had been a footballer before he was a Prince. The temptation was too much for him. He drew back his foot. There was a howl and a thud, and John resumed his stroll. The first gun had been fired. Early next morning a window at the rear of the palace was broken by a stone, and towards noon one of the soldiers on guard in front of the Casino was narrowly missed by an anonymous orange. For Mcrvo this was practically equivalent to the attack on the Bastille, and John, when the report of

404 THE STKAXD MAGAZINE. the atrocfties was brought to him, became hopeful. After breakfast on the following morning Mr. Crump paid a visit to the palace. He was the bearer of another note from Mr. Scobell. This time John tore it up unread, and, turning to the secretary, invited him to sit down and make himself at home. Sipping a whisky and soda and smoking one of John's cigars, Mr. Crump became con fidential. \" This is a queer business,\" he said. \" Old Ben is chewing pieces out of the furniture up there. He's pretty well fed up. He's losing money all the while the people are making up their minds about this thing, and it beats him why they're so slow.\" \" It beats me, too. I don't believe these hook-worm victims ever turned my father out. Or. if they did, somebody must have injected radium into them first. I'll give them another couple of days, and Halloa ! What's this ? \" He rose to his feet as the sound of agitated voices came from the other side of the door. The next moment it flew open, revealing General Poineau and an assorted group of footmen and other domestics. General Poineau rushed forward into the room, and flung his arms above his head. \" Mon prince ! \" he moaned. A perfect avalanche of French burst from the group outside the door. \" Crump ! \" cried John. \" Stand by me, Crump ! Look alive ! This is where you come out strong. Never mind the chorus gentlemen in the passage. Concentrate your self on old General Dingbat.\" The General had begun to speak rapidly, with a wealth of gestures. It astonished John that Mr. Crump could follow the harangue as apparently he did. Mr. Crump looked grave. \" He says there is a large mob in the market place. They are talking of moving in force on the palace. The Palace Guards have gone over to the people. General Poineau urges you to disguise yourself and escape while there is time. You will be safe at his villa till the excitement subsides, when you can be smuggled over to France to-night.\" \" Not for me,\" said John, shaking his head. \" It's very good of you, General, and I appreciate it, but I can't wait till night. The boat leaves for Marseilles in another hour. I catch that. I'll go up and pack my bag.\" But as he left the room there came through the open window the mutter of a crowd. He stopped. General Poineau whipped out his sword and brought it to the salute. John patted him on the shoulder. \" You're a stout fellow, General,\" he said, \" but we sha'n't want it. Come along, Crump, and help me address the multitude.'' The window of the room looked out on to a square. There was a small balcony with a stone parapet. As John stepped out a howl of rage burst from the mob.

THE PRINCE AND BETTY. 4<>5 \"AS JOHN STKITEl) OUT A HOWL OF RAGE BURST FROM THE MOB.'' CHAPTER XII. JOHN RETURNS TO NORWORTH. IN moments of emotion man has an unfor tunate tendency to forget the convention alities, especially if he be a man of John's temperament. John's mind, when he left Norworth Court, had been so full of the idea that he must go back to Mervo and abolish the gaming tables there that there had been no room in it for the realization of what was due to his host and hostess. And he had nearly completed his return journey before he began to consider his position. When he did so it was borne in upon him with some vividness that he had fallen a little short in the performance of those courtesies which etiquette demands of the departing guest. He regretted his absent-mindedness. By the time he reached London he perceived quite clearly that, unless Mr. and Mrs. Morrison happened to be of an angelically forgiving disposition, Norworth Court was barred to him, and his chances of again meet ing Betty remote.

4o6 THE STRAM) MAGAZINE. Delia seemed to him his one hope. Her friendship would probably have remained intact even under the trying conditions. He determined to take up a position at the village inn and see her before attempting anything else. Accordingly, having arrived at the village, he sent off a messenger to her with a note ; and presently he saw her approaching briskly, her face one note of interrogation. \" I'll explain everything later,\" he said, in answer to her rush of inquiries. \" First, how do I stand—with your father and mother. I mean ? \" \" You're in mighty bad with ma. Say, why did you want to rush off \" \" Delia.\" interrupted John, \" I've just got to get into that house. I've got to see Betty. I've something to tell her. I must see her. Delia, be a pal, as you always have been. Smuggle me into the house and see that I have five minutes with Betty alone.\" Delia regarded him open-eyed. \" Are you in love with Betty, John Maude ? \" \" Of course I am.\" \" Well, I guess you know your own busi ness,\" said Delia, doubtfully. \" But if I was a man in love with a girl, you wouldn't catch me going off and leaving her alone with Lord Arthur to prowl around and \" \" What do you mean ? \" cried John. \" Well, I may be wrong, but the way it looks to me is that you aren't the only rubber- plant in Brooklyn. I can't understand it, though. I don't see his lordship's game. He's out to marry for money, but—well, you ought to see him when Betty's around. He's Assiduous Willie all right.\" \" Delia, can you get me into the house this afternoon ? \" Delia considered. \" I guess I could,\" she said. \" We're giving our first garden-party this afternoon. His lordship has gathered in a bunch of his special pals. If we make good with them, as far as I can figure it, the rest of the swells in these parts will O.K. us and come flocking in. Everybody will be out helping to whoop things up in the garden, and you can just slip in. You know my little room next to the drawing-room ? Sneak in there, and when I see a chance I'll ask Betty to fetch something from the drawing-room. Then you can go in and talk to her. And all I say is, if you butt into trouble, keep me out of it.\" Under other conditions there might have been romance in John's stealthy entry into Norworth Court that afternoon. He found himself in Delia's sitting-room, hot, uncom fortable, and with much the same emotions as he would have felt if he had managed to elude the conductor on a tramcar and escape paying his fare. Nothing could make such a situation romantic. The room he was in was on the second floor. The window looked out on to the lake, and through it, as John stood there, came the

THE PRINCE AND BETTY. 407 no word reached him. Delia, busy at the tea-table, spoke to Betty, who looked up at the drawing-room window and began to move towards the house. She had reached the front door when Lord Arthur, detaching himself from the throng, moved off in the same direction. It might be that his lordship was going about some private business of his own, but in John's mind there was no doubt that he was following Betty. Voices became audible on the stairs, and the two passed the door behind which John stood and went on into the drawing-room. John opened the door cautiously and listened. The drawing-room door was ajar, and in the silence of the house his lordship's voice was plainly audible, apparently delivering a monologue. A single word gave John the clue, and then all that had been mysterious grew clear. In that cool drawing-room, not twelve feet from where he stood, his lordship was offering Betty his hand and title. He clung to the door-handle. In the drawing-room the monologue proceeded on its rhythmical way. In moments of emotion, it has been pointed out, John had a certain bias towards the impetuous. He was a little apt to treat any situation that had in it the elements of delicacy and embarrassment as if it were the enemy's line in a football match. Getting swiftly off the mark, he covered the distance to the drawing-room in three rapid bounds, and burst in. When John, full of admirable resolutions, had set out under cover of the night to put an end to gambling in Mervo, his abrupt depar ture had not only offended his hostess, but had been entirely misinterpreted by Betty. She had regarded it as a sign on his part that, if there had ever been any struggle in his mind between wealth and self-respect, he had decided it in favour of the former. The silent devotion of Lord Arthur Hayling, at first a trial, became gradually, as the days went by, something of a consolation. She was lonely to her very soul, and he was a friend. He was sympathetic. He could talk well. He had seen much of the world, and conveyed the idea of having read widely. Talking with him, she could check the pain that was always with her. Sometimes a sudden and vivid memory of John would sweep over her mind, and she would sec rk-arly the impossibility of what she contemplated ; but the thought would return, and she would weaken once more. It was in one of these moods of weakness that Lord Arthur had found her as she was setting out in quest of Delia's handkerchief. His lordship's practised eye perceived it, and he knew that the moment was ripe for which he had been preparing, when he should put into words what till now had been mere hints. He felt no trepidation. Words of the kind he intended to speak were his specialty. He was no raw novice at proposing marriage.

408 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. \" They'll be coming in a moment,\" he said, \" so I mu-st talk quick. Betty, I've come back to explain. All those things you said to me that night were true. But there was one thing you thought of me then, though you didn't say it, which wasn't true. I may have been a steerer for a gambling-hell, but I wasn't that I\" He stopped. \" I had no suspicion,\" he went on. \" Per haps I ought to have seen, but I didn't. It never occurred to me. When I followed you with the sudden rush of happiness that filled her. She made an impulsive movement towards him. She was conscious of a passionate longing to feel his arms round her. She could not speak, but there was no need for words. She saw his face light up. And then he had gathered her into his arms Lnd was holding her there, clutching her to him fiercely. Her own about his neck tightened convulsively, forcing his head down until his face rested against hers. \"AND THEN HB GATHERED HKR INTO HIS ARMS.\" from Mervo I hadn't a notion what was wrong. Then you told me, and I saw. I had never thought of my position in that way before. But I knew you were right, and I knew I couldn't see you again till I had squared myself. I went straight back to Mervo, and there I saw your stepfather, and he told me—what he had told you. . . . And then I shut down the Casino.\" Betty looked at him without speaking. Her heart was beating quickly. As yet she did not fully comprehend. \" I abolished the gaming tables,\" he went on. Then she understood, and she trembled She raised a small, cool hand to his face and gently stroked his cheek. She performed it almost unconsciously, this half-formal gesture with which woman, from the days of Eve, has taken possession of the man she loves. She pressed more closely against his arms. They were strong arms, restful to lean against at the journey's end. \" I want you,\" she said. CHAPTER XIII. THE LAST STRAW. MEANWHILE the sudden appearance of

THE PRINCE AND BETTY. 409 Lord Arthur Hayling on a second-storey window-sill had had a marked effect on the dignified revellers on the terrace. His frantic demands for help disposed of the idea that he had assumed the position for his own amusement, and the phenomenon occasioned, in consequence, considerable mystification. But Mrs. Morrison's guests quickly re covered their poise. The well-bred Briton has two methods of coping with the unusual, and if one fails the other is always successful. His first step, when faced with any situation that promises to be embarrassing, is to ignore it. If it will not be ignored, he simply goes away. The guests at the garden-party adopted the latter method. The air became full of polite farewells. The advance-guard of the rescue party, which had arrived almost immediately after his lordship had been sighted, consisted of Delia, Mr. Briggs, the butler, and Henry, one of the footmen. At first Delia had had that leaden sense of irretrievable disaster which oppresses the soul when matters have passed out of our hands and are running amok. She did not blame John. In the same cir cumstances she would have wished her Tom to behave in the same way. But that did not alter the fact that he had completely spoiled the party. The polite self-effacement of the guests was merely temporary. When they had gone they would discuss the matter. It would be talked about at fifty dinner-tables. The story would permeate the county like an epidemic. And that the victim should have been Lord Arthur Hayling was the final tragedy. Mr. Briggs. the butler, was hammering experimentally on one panel of the door. There came the sound of the key turning in the lock. The door opened, and John appeared. \" John Maude.\" cried Delia, \" what, in the name of goodness, have you been doing ? What's his lordship ? \" \" By George ! I'd completely forgotten him ! Delia.\" he said, ruefully, \" I'm awfully sorry this should have happened.\" \" You aren't the only one ! Aren't you going to pull him in ? \" \" I suppose I'd better.\" John turned to the window. There are moments in life loo poignant for speech. Such a moment occurred when John, raising the sash, pulled Lord Arthur off his perch and deposited him on the draw ing-room carpet. It was a situation to which VoL xliii.-28. no words could have done justice, and his lordship did not attempt any. Under con siderable disadvantages, for his face was red and his clothes soiled, he maintained an impressive dignity. Ignoring John, who had begun in friendly fashion to dust him down, he stood, stiffly erect, pulling his moustache.

4io THE STRAND MAGAZINE. She broke off. Delia had flung herself upon her and was hugging her rapturously. \" You dear ! You darling ! \" she cried. Mr. Morrison had begun to execute a species of dance. He revolved slowly, snapping his fingers and uttering weird cries. And Betty and John, skirting round him, passed un noticed from the room. CHAPTER XIV. CONCLUSION. ON the following day John wrote to Mr. Scobell, informing him of his engagement to Betty. It was a curt letter, and contained no suggestion that the writer regarded the financier's approval or disapproval as in any way affecting the matter in hand. An era of the deepest peace had now set in at Norworth Court. Lord Arthur was in London at his club. The servants had left in a body, as requested on the day after the garden-party, and the little band of survivors were living, with vast content, a picnic life, supporting themselves, when they did not go to the village inn, on meals cooked by Mrs, Morrison. It was a peaceful, happy time. With the departure of the guests the depressing spell of the Court seemed to have vanished. Mrs. Morrison, relieved of the burden of her social duties, had become a different woman. And Delia was radiant. She had broken the facts in the case of Tom to her parents during the first moments of the revolution, and Mr. Morrison, having pointed out the various ways in which the American young man was superior to every other known variety of young man, had given his approval without a murmur of dissent. John and Betty spent the days wandering about the grounds or exploring the little lake in the punt, for which another pole had been provided in place of that which had broken. Betty, happy though she was in the present, was inclined to touch on the future more fre quently than John liked. His views were unvaryingly optimistic. \" Leave it to me,\" he said. \" I've got about thirty pounds. What more do we want ? Rockefeller and all those fellows started with about twopence. We'll go to America with the Morrisons. I'll get a job of some sort, if it's blacking boots.\" But Fate had arranged a different destiny for him. Towards the end of the week he was strolling back along the main street of the village, whither he had been to buy tobacco, when from a window on the ground floor of the inn a voice spoke. '' Hey ! \" said the voice of Mr. Scobell. John had wondered sometimes what Mr. Scobell's move would be on receipt of his letter. He had been a little surprised at not hearing from him. That he would come to Norworth he had not anticipated. \" Come along in. Prince.\" said Mr. Scobell, smiling amiably. \" I want to have a talk with you.\" John found the financier seated amidst

THE PRINCE A^D BETTY. 411 He drew in his breath slowly. \" This sounds pretty good to me,\" he added. \" It's yours if you'll take it.\" John leaned across the table and extended his hand. \" I will.\" he said. \" And thanks for saving my life. I never did think much of that boot black scheme.\" He sat back and looked at Mr. Scobell. exhibited the only trace of sentiment with which history credits him. Betty was already in the car, and John, buttoning his motor-coat, was about to follow her, when the financier drew him aside. \" Hi ! \" he said. \" Jest a moment, Prince.\" John bent an attentive ear. \" Prince,\" said Mr. Scobell, puffing earnestly at his cigar and keeping his eyes ' HB LOOKED FIXKDLY AT THE FINANCIER. HIS FACE WORF. A SOMEWHAT DAZED EXPRESSION.\" \" What you've clone uith your wings and harp, I can't think,\" he said, meditatively. \" It's a wonderful disguise.\" John and Betty were married quietly— or as quietly as the village organist, a lusty performer, would permit—two weeks later at Norworth Church. The bride was given away by Mr. Scobell, who, with a delicacy of feeling of which few who knew him would have deemed him capable, refrained from smoking during the ceremony. The wedding breakfast was held at the Court, after which the newly-married pair set off in a motor-car, the gift of the bride's stepfather, for their honeymoon tour. It was while the chauffeur was cranking up the machine that Mr. Benjamin Scobell fixed on the distant hills. \" I've got some thing I want you to do for me.\" Mr. Scobell continued to inspect the distant hills. \" Yes ? \" said John. \" What's that ? \" \" I wish you'd name him Benjamin,\" he said, softly. \" Him ? \" said John, puzzled. \" Who ? . . . Great Scot! \" He looked fixedly at the financier. His face wore a somewhat dazed expression. \" The papers call you Hustler Scobell, don't they ? \" he said, at last. Mr. Scobell blushed with pleasure. \" Why, yes. That's so. They do.\" \" I don't wonder.\" he said. \" I don't wonder. Good-bve.\" John nodded thoughtfully. THE END.

IT Britain Disarmed AiVhat \\Vould the Nation Gain and Lose ? Illustrated by George Morrow. [The following remarkable article contains the opposing views of a number of eminent journalists and ethers who have devoted time to a subject of paramount importance to every citizen. Is the disarmament of the British Army and Navy for home purposes, even if practicable, desirable ? Would permanent peace be purchased at too dear a price in the loss to national character and to art and literature ? That is the question.] N the good old days, when warfare, even organized war fare, was simply an affair of generalship, and the commis sariat usually looked after itself as it went along, a man had only to shoulder his arquebus or his pike and be off to the wars. As long as fighting lasted the man's family were deprived of his services as a wage- earner ; when peace came all was on its old footing; the soldiers went back to work and all expenses ceased for King and people. We are a long way off, in this twentieth century, from the good old days. Peace, once the cheapest of commodities, has now grown into a most expensive one. We have now had ten years of it, and it has cost John Bull more than seven hundred million pounds sterling ! Think of what ten years of peace would have meant even in Queen Anne's day — what it actually did mean in the reign of George I. —what economy, what retrench ment!—when the small standing army was set to road - making and bridge- building, and virtually nothing was spent on armaments. As to the cost of a peace establishment to Europe to - day, the figures are positively staggering. Nowadays, on some quiet, secluded country road you may'see a squad of uniformed men, mounted, in charge of a file of gun-carriages. On these carriages you may distinguish powerful engines of destruction—cannons, mortars, and howitzers. Such weapons would have struck terror to the hearts of our own fathers—to-day amongst the initiated they excite only a smile. For though they cost a great deal of money and are as good as they ever were, military science has decreed that they are obsolete and therefore useless. They are bound for the scrap-heap, to be sold as old junk, or to fulfil some peaceful purpose at home. Or it may be that in some pleasant harbour a cruiser or destroyer is seen, still young, still powerful, but now superannuated, dismissed