atmosphere on minds and temperaments unused to such

luxuries. The Yarkand manner was not popular."
"And the contents of the paper," said the nephew,

"did they show the influence of the new style?"
"Ah!" said Sir Lulworth, "that was the exciting

thing. In home affairs, social questions, and the
ordinary events of the day not much change was

noticeable. A certain Oriental carelessness seemed to
have crept into the editorial department, and perhaps a

note of lassitude not unnatural in the work of men who
had returned from what had been a fairly arduous journey.

The aforetime standard of excellence was scarcely
maintained, but at any rate the general lines of policy

and outlook were not departed from. It was in the realm
of foreign affairs that a startling change took place.

Blunt, forcible, outspoken articles appeared, couched in
language which nearly turned the autumn manoeuvres of six

important Powers into mobilisations. Whatever else the
DAILY INTELLIGENCER had learned in the East, it had not

acquired the art of diplomatic ambiguity. The man in the
street enjoyed the articles and bought the paper as he

had never bought it before; the men in Downing Street
took a different view. The Foreign Secretary, hitherto

accounted a rather reticent man, became positively
garrulous in the course of perpetually disavowing the

sentiments expressed in the DAILY INTELLIGENCER'S
leaders; and then one day the Government came to the

conclusion that something definite and drastic must be
done. A deputation, consisting of the Prime Minister,

the Foreign Secretary, four leading financiers, and a
well-known Nonconformist divine, made its way to the

offices of the paper. At the door leading to the
editorial department the way was barred by a nervous but

defiant office-boy.
" 'You can't see the editor nor any of the staff,'

he announced.
" 'We insist on seeing the editor or some

responsible person,' said the Prime Minister, and the
deputation forced its way in. The boy had spoken truly;

there was no one to be seen. In the whole suite of rooms
there was no sign of human life.

" 'Where is the editor?' 'Or the foreign editor?'
'Or the chief leader-writer? Or anybody?'

"In answer to the shower of questions the boy
unlocked a drawer and produced a strange-looking

envelope, which bore a Khokand postmark, and a date of
some seven or eight months back. It contained a scrap of

paper on which was written the following message:
" 'Entire party captured by brigand tribe on

homeward journey. Quarter of million demanded as ransom,
but would probably take less. Inform Government,

relations, and friends.'
"There followed the signatures of the principal

members of the party and instructions as to how and where
the money was to be paid.

"The letter had been directed to the office-boy-in-
charge, who had quietly suppressed it. No one is a hero

to one's own office-boy, and he evidently considered that
a quarter of a million was an unwarrantable outlay for

such a doubtfullyadvantageous object as the repatriation
of an errant newspaper staff. So he drew the editorial

and other salaries, forged what signatures were
necessary, engaged new reporters, did what sub-editing he

could, and made as much use as possible of the large
accumulation of special articles that was held in reserve

for emergencies. The articles on foreign affairs were
entirely his own composition.

"Of course the whole thing had to be kept as quiet
as possible; an interim staff, pledged to secrecy, was

appointed to keep the paper going till the pining
captives could be sought out, ransomed, and brought home,

in twos and threes to escape notice, and gradually things
were put back on their old footing. The articles on

foreign affairs reverted to the wonted traditions of the
paper."

"But," interposed the nephew, "how on earth did the
boy account to the relatives all those months for the

non-appearance - "
"That," said Sir Lulworth, "was the most brilliant

stroke of all. To the wife or nearest relative of each
of the missing men he forwarded a letter, copying the

handwriting of the supposedwriter as well as he could,
and making excuses about vile pens and ink; in each

letter he told the same story, varying only the locality,
to the effect that the writer, alone of the whole party,

was unable to tear himself away from the wild liberty and
allurements of Eastern life, and was going to spend

several months roaming in some selected region. Many of
the wives started off immediately in pursuit of their

errant husbands, and it took the Government a
considerable time and much trouble to reclaim them from

their fruitless quests along the banks of the Oxus, the
Gobi Desert, the Orenburg steppe, and other outlandish

places. One of them, I believe, is still lost somewhere
in the Tigris Valley."

"And the boy?"
"Is still in journalism."

THE BYZANTINE OMELETTE
SOPHIE CHATTEL-MONKHEIM was a Socialist by

conviction and a Chattel-Monkheim by marriage. The
particular member of that wealthy family whom she had

married was rich, even as his relatives counted riches.
Sophie had very advanced and decided views as to the

distribution of money: it was a pleasing and fortunate
circumstance that she also had the money. When she

inveighed eloquently against the evils of capitalism at
drawing-room meetings and Fabian conferences she was

conscious of a comfortable feeling that the system, with
all its inequalities and iniquities, would probably last

her time. It is one of the consolations of middle-aged
reformers that the good they inculcate must live after

them if it is to live at all.
On a certain spring evening, somewhere towards the

dinner-hour, Sophie sat tranquilly between her mirror and
her maid, undergoing the process of having her hair built

into an elaboratereflection of the prevailing fashion.
She was hedged round with a great peace, the peace of one

who has attained a desired end with much effort and
perseverance, and who has found it still eminently

desirable in its attainment. The Duke of Syria had
consented to come beneath her roof as a guest, was even

now installed beneath her roof, and would shortly be
sitting at her dining-table. As a good Socialist, Sophie

disapproved of social distinctions, and derided the idea
of a princely caste, but if there were to be these

artificial gradations of rank and dignity she was pleased
and anxious to have an exalted specimen of an exalted