would warn any practical joker that he would be

well-advised to stand aside and leave this matter to those who are said to be as impervious to bullets as their supporters are to common sense.”

McArdle gave his dry chuckle at the concluding words.

“ I’m thinking they are getting pairsonal there, friend Malone, for if you are no a supporter, you’re well on the way. But are you no of the opeenion that this chiel and you between you might put up a spook and get two racy columns off him ? ”

“Well, I can see Lord Roxton,” said Malone. “ He’s still, I suppose, in his old rooms in the Albany. I would wish to call in any ca&e, so I can open this up as well.”

Thus it was that in the late afternoon just as the murk of London broke into dim circles of silver, the pressman found himself once more walking down Vigo Street and accosting the porter at the dark entrance of the old-fashioned chambers. Yes, Lord John Roxton was in, but a gentleman was with him. He would take a card. Presently he returned with word that in spite of the previous visitor, Lord Roxton would see Malone at once. An instant later, he had been ushered into the old luxurious rooms with their trophies of war and of the chase. The owner of them with outstreched hand was standing at the door, long, thin, austere, with the same gaunt, whimsical, Don Quixote face as of old. There was no change save that he was more aquiline, and his eyebrows jutted more thickly over his reckless, restless eyes.

“ Hullo, young fellah ! ” he cried. “ I was hopin’ you’d draw this old covert once more. I was comin’ down to the office to look you up. Come in ! Come