staring into the fire.

"Ah, Brimberly," he sighed gently, "making a night of it?"

"Why, sir," bowed his butler, "indeed, sir--to tell the truth, sir--"

"You needn't, Brimberly. Excellent cigars you smoke--judging from the
smell. May I have one?"

"Sir," said Brimberly, his whiskers slightly agitated, "cigars, sir?"

"In the cabinet, I think," and Mr. Ravenslee motioned feebly with one
white hand towards the tall, carved cabinet in an adjacent corner.

Mr. Brimberly coughed softly behind plump fingers.

"The--the key, sir?" he suggested.

"Oh, not at all necessary, Brimberly; the lock is faulty, you know."

"Sir?" said Brimberly, soothing a twitching whisker.

"If you are familiar with the life of the Fourteenth Louis, Brimberly,
you will remember that the Grand Monarch hated to be kept waiting--so do
I. A cigar--in the cabinet yonder."

With his whiskers in a high state of agitation, Mr. Brimberly laid by
the garments he held clutched in one arm and coming to the cabinet,
opened it, and taking thence a box of cigars, very much at random, came
back, carrying it rather as though it were a box of highly dangerous