lecting contributions to your hospital. Now here's five thousand good pounds for your hospital, and you kick."
"I don't think Sir Reginald sufficiently an enemy of Humanity to justify our removing him even to get five thousand pounds for the Children's Hospital," I said firmly; and from that standpoint I would not budge.
Chelubai argued with me; Bottiger blustered at me. I remained unshaken.
At last Chelubai said thoughtfully: "If it were ten thousand pounds for your hospital, I reckon you'd climb down and come in with us."
"Well, I admit that that would be a temptation that might break me down. Thank goodness, it isn't ten thousand pounds," I said.
"I see," said Chelubai, still thoughtful; and presently they took their leave coldly.
I was not long learning that we had not done with Sir Reginald Blackthwaite. I found myself up against the American keenness of Chelubai and Bottiger's dogged English tenacity. Indeed, Bottiger's enthusiasm to rid the European section of Humanity of its worst bridge player transformed him. He became a sleuth-hound, dogging the toddle of the unconscious Sir Reginald, in a passionate hope of discovering that he was the prey of some Platonic attachment, which would
