certain of a place.

"Yes," replied William Greyson,--"in the workhouse. Put your degree in
your inside pocket, Kong, and don't mention it. You'll have far more
chance as a distressed mariner. The casual wards are full of B.A.'s,
but the navy can't get enough A.B.'s at any price. What do you say to
an organ, by the way? Mysterious musicians generally go down well, and
I dare say there's room for a change from veiled ladies, persecuted
captains and indigent earls. You ought to make a sensation."

"Is it in the nature of melodious sounds upon winding a handle?" I
asked, not at the moment grasping with certainty to what organ he
referred.

"Well, some call them that," he admitted, "others don't. I suppose,
now, you wouldn't care to walk to Brighton with your feet tied
together, or your hair in curl papers, and then get on at a music
hall? Or would there be any chance of your Legation kidnapping you if
it was properly worked? 'Kong Ho, the great Chinese Reformer, tells
the Story of his Life,'--there ought to be money in it. Are you a
reformer or the leader of a secret society, Kong?"

"On the contrary," I replied, "we of our Line have ever been
unflinching in our loyalty to the dynasty of Tsing."

"You ought to have known better, then. It's a poor business being that
in your country nowadays. Pity there are no bye-elections on the
African Labour Question, or you'd be snapped up for a procession."

To this I replied that although the idea of moving in a processional