certainly." And while his interlocutor was recovering enough to
formulate another question, Mr. Barker moved gently away to a
flowerstand.

When Claudius returned his friend was waiting for him, and himself
pinned a large and expensive rose in the Doctor's buttonhole. Mr. Barker
surveyed his work--the clipped head, the new hat, the shiny boots and
the rose--with a satisfied air, such as Mr. Barnum may have worn when he
landed Jumbo on the New York pier. Then he called a cab, and they drove
away.




CHAPTER IV.


The summer breath of the roses blew sweetly in through the long windows
of the Countess's morning-room from the little garden outside as Barker
and Claudius entered. There was an air of inhabited luxury which was
evidently congenial to the American, for he rubbed his hands softly
together and touched one or two objects caressingly while waiting for
the lady of the house. Claudius glanced at the table and took up a book,
with that singular student habit that is never lost. It was a volume of
English verse, and in a moment he was reading, just as he stood, with
his hat caught between the fingers that held the book, oblivious of
countesses and visits and formalities. There was a rustle and a step on
the garden walk, and both men turned towards the open glass door.
Claudius almost dropped the vellum-covered poet, and was very
perceptibly startled as he recognised the lady of his Heidelberg