the light of the candelabra. This was Lord Ferriby--a man whose best
friend did his best for him in describing him as well-meaning. He gave
a cough which had sufficient significance in it to command a momentary
quiet. During the silence, a well-dressed parson stood on tiptoe and
whispered something in Lord Ferriby's ear. The suggestion, whatever it
may have been, was negated by the speaker on receipt of a warning shake
of the head from Joan.

"Er--ladies and gentlemen," said Lord Ferriby, and gained the necessary
silence. "Er--you all know the purpose of our meeting here to-night.
You all know that Lady Ferriby and myself are much honoured by your
presence here. And--er--I am sure----" He did not, however, appear to be
quite sure, for he consulted his paper, and the colonial bishop near
the yellow chrysanthemums said, "Hear, hear!"

"And I am sure that we are, one and all, actuated by a burning desire
to relieve the terrible distress which has been going on unknown to us
in our very midst."

"He has missed out half a page," said Joan to Major White, who somehow
found himself at her side again.

"This is no place, and we have at the moment no time, to go into the
details of the manufacture of malgamite. Suffice it to say, that such
a--er--composition exists, and that it is a necessity in the
manufacture of paper. Now, ladies and gentlemen, the painful fact has
been brought to light by my friend Mr. Roden----" His lordship paused,
and looked round with a half-fledged bow, but failed to find Roden.

"By--er--Mr. Roden that the manufacture of malgamite is one of the