SIMON THE JESTER


By William J. Locke




CHAPTER I

I met Renniker the other day at the club. He is a man who knows
everything--from the method of trimming a puppy's tail for a dog-show,
without being disqualified, to the innermost workings of the mind of
every European potentate. If I want information on any subject under
heaven I ask Renniker.

"Can you tell me," said I, "the most God-forsaken spot in England?"

Renniker, being in a flippant mood, mentioned a fashionable
watering-place on the South Coast. I pleaded the seriousness of my
question.

"What I want," said I, "is a place compared to which Golgotha, Aceldama,
the Dead Sea, the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and the Bowery would be leafy
bowers of uninterrupted delight."

"Then Murglebed-on-Sea is what you're looking for," said Renniker. "Are
you going there at once?"

"At once," said I.