BLINDMAN'S-BUFF
Dear Mr. Scarlett:
Aunt Julia has just decided that we go by the "Muang-Fang," sailing to-morrow. The climate is getting too much for her, and the King of Spades urgently advises her to go.
All quiet here these last two nights. I hope it has been so with you.
In great haste,
"Hurrah!" cried Scarlett. Clapping Chao Phya under his arm, and leaving both gula and mangoes untasted, he hurried down to his carriage. Just as he had booked for the "Muang-Fang," and was leaving the office, he ran against a round little man, tight-buttoned in cheerful flannels.
"You here, too!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. His red necktie lent a needless touch of heat to the torrid compound. He waggled a roguish finger. "I spy, I spy! Same steamer, eh? You sad young dog! And the cat—now I call that devotion, if you like!"
Owen reddened.
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