pen."

"I quite understand," I assured him; then, solicitously, "I hope they
don't expect you to do it for nothing."

"Oh, dear, no," Callan answered.

"Ah, well, I wish you luck," I said. "They couldn't have got a better
man to win over the National conscience. I suppose it comes to that."

Callan nodded.

"I fancy I have the ear of the public," he said. He seemed to get
satisfaction from the thought.

The train entered Folkestone Harbour. The smell of the sea and the easy
send of the boat put a little heart into me, but my spirits were on the
down grade. Callan was a trying companion. The sight of him stirred
uneasy emotions, the sound of his voice jarred.

"Are you coming to the Grand?" he said, as we passed St. Denis.

"My God, no," I answered, hotly, "I'm going across the river."

"Ah," he murmured, "the Quartier Latin. I wish I could come with you.
But I've my reputation to think of. You'd be surprised how people get to
hear of my movements. Besides, I'm a family man."

I was agitatedly silent. The train steamed into the glare of the
electric lights, and, getting into a fiacre, I breathed again. I seemed