such an entirely unimportant person as my nephew Arthur is likely to be
assassinated. That allusion to one of the members of my family is a
mere equivocation, designed to throw me off my guard. Rank, money,
social influence, unswerving principles, mark ME out as a public
character. Go to the police-office, and let the best man who happens to
be off duty come here directly."

Good Dennis Howmore approached the door very unwillingly. It was
opened, from the outer side, before he had reached that end of the
room. One of the bank porters announced a visitor.

"Miss Henley wishes to know, sir, if you can see her."

Sir Giles looked agreeably surprised. He rose with alacrity to receive
the lady.

III

WHEN Iris Henley dies there will, in all probability, be friends left
who remember her and talk of her--and there may be strangers present at
the time (women for the most part), whose curiosity will put questions
relating to her personal appearance. No replies will reward them with
trustworthy information. Miss Henley's chief claim to admiration lay in
a remarkable mobility of expression, which reflected every change of
feeling peculiar to the nature of a sweet and sensitive woman. For this
reason, probably, no descriptions of her will agree with each other. No
existing likenesses will represent her. The one portrait that was
painted of Iris is only recognisable by partial friends of the artist.
In and out of London, photographic likenesses were taken of her. They
have the honour of resembling the portraits of Shakespeare in this