much as set her foot upon the coveted soil at the end of the pier. A
hundred knives might hack her to pieces, but even as she shuddered a
rush of true British doggedness warmed her blood; after all, she was
there to fight for her rights and she would stand her ground. Almost
before she realised, the dominant air of superiority which characterises
her nation, no matter whither its subjects may roam, crept out above her
brief touch of timidity, and she found that she could stare defiantly
into the swarthy ranks.

"Is there no British agent here?" she demanded imperatively, perhaps a
little more shrilly than usual.

No one deigned to answer; glances of indifference, even scorn, passed
among the silent lookers-on, but that was all. It was more than her
pride could endure. Her smooth cheeks turned a deeper pink and her blue
eyes flashed.

"Does no one here understand the English language?" she demanded. "I
don't mean you, Mr. Saunders," she added sharply, as the little clerk
set the suitcase down abruptly and stepped forward, again fumbling his
much-fumbled straw hat. This was the moment when the red cocker's tail
came to grief. The dog arose with an astonished yelp and fled to his
mistress; he had never been so outrageously set upon before in all his
pampered life. Seizing the opportunity to vent her feelings upon one who
could understand, even as she poured soothings upon the insulted Pong,
whom she clasped in her arms, Lady Agnes transformed the unlucky
Saunders into a target for a most ably directed volley of wrath. The
shadow of a smile swept down the threatening row of dark faces.

Lord Deppingham, a slow and cumbersome young man, stood by nervously