T. X. tartly, "that I despair of ever cataloguing them."

"You are an insolent cub," growled his Chief. "Come to lunch."

"Where will you take me?" asked T. X. cautiously.

"To my club."

"I'm sorry," said the other, with elaborate politeness, "I have
lunched once at your club. Need I say more?"

He smiled, as he worked after his Chief had gone, at the
recollection of Kara's profound astonishment and the gratification
he strove so desperately to disguise.

Kara was a vain man, immensely conscious of his good looks,
conscious of his wealth. He had behaved most handsomely, for not
only had he accepted the apology, but he left nothing undone to
show his desire to create a good impression upon the man who had
so grossly insulted him.

T. X. had accepted an invitation to stay a weekend at Kara's
"little place in the country," and had found there assembled
everything that the heart could desire in the way of fellowship,
eminent politicians who might conceivably be of service to an
ambitious young Assistant Commissioner of Police, beautiful ladies
to interest and amuse him. Kara had even gone to the length of
engaging a theatrical company to play "Sweet Lavender," and for
this purpose the big ballroom at Hever Court had been transformed
into a theatre.