principal made light of difficulties, and Royson noticed that he was to
be supplied with riding breeches and boots in addition to a sea-faring
kit, while a _sola topi_, or pith helmet, appeared, in the list.

He asked no questions, was assured that all would be in readiness at
four o'clock that day, and found himself turned loose again in London
at an early hour with nothing to do. And what do you think he did? He
caught a Mansion-House train to Victoria, waylaid the Guards a second
time, marched with them valiantly to St. James's, and took a keen
delight in their stately pageant. He saw his friend, Seymour, strolling
to and fro with a brother officer in the tiny square, and watched him
march; back to Chelsea with the relieved guard.

Then, with all the zest of seeing London from a new standpoint, that of
moneyed idleness, he strolled towards Hyde Park. He took the road known
as the Ladies' Mile, crossed the Serpentine by the bridge, and came
back by the Row. There, near the Albert Gate crossing, a lady had
reined in her chestnut hunter and was talking to an old gentleman
standing near the rails. Had Royson stared at her, he might have
remembered the eyes, and the finely-cut contours of nose, lips and
chin. But his acquaintance with fashionable society had been severed so
completely that he was not aware of the new code which permits its
votaries to stare at a pretty woman; and a riding-habit offers sharp
contrast to a set of sables. He was passing, all unconscious of the
interest he had aroused in the lady, when he heard her say:

"Why, grandfather, there he is. Good morning, Mr. King. Mr. Fenshawe
and I were just talking about you."

Royson would have known her voice anywhere. It had the rare distinction