the stale lees of vulgar frivolity, to the post-office, which at
least was alive. I received a packet of letters and purchased a local
time-table, from which we learned that the steamer sailed daily to
Borkum _via_ Norderney, touching three times a week at Juist (weather
permitting). On the return journey to-day it was due at Norderney at
7.30 p.m. Then I inquired the way to the 'Vier Jahreszeiten'. 'For
whatever your principles,

Davies,' I said, 'we are going to have the best breakfast money can
buy! We've got the whole day before us.'

The 'Four Seasons' Hotel was on the esplanade facing the northern
beach. Living up to its name, it announced on an illuminated
sign-board, 'Inclusive terms for winter visitors; special attention
to invalids, etc.' Here in a great glass restaurant, with the
unruffled blue of ocean spread out before us, we ate the king of
breakfasts, dismissed the waiter, and over long and fragrant Havanas
examined my mail at leisure.

'What a waste of good diplomacy!' was my first thought, for nothing
had been tampered with, so far as we could judge from the minutest
scrutiny, directed, of course, in particular to the franked official
letters (for to my surprise there were two) from Whitehall.

The first in order of date (6th Oct.) ran: 'Dear Carruthers.--Take
another week by all means.--Yours, etc.'

The second (marked 'urgent') had been sent to my home address and
forwarded. It was dated 15th October, and cancelled the previous
letter, requesting me to return to London without delay--'I am sorry