with a relish for the remembrance. “I carted all the women off to call on the lady, and while we were there Azimoolah, in the character of an Indian rajah, blundered into Mr. Clinton Ziegler’s rooms, which I had in the meanwhile ascertained communicated with Mrs. Talmage Eglinton’s. When the prearranged hubbub commenced she gave herself away by an unconscious movement to the communicating door, showing that she was in the habit of using it, unknown to the hotel people, who believe that they have divided one big suite into two smaller ones let separately. She’s clever, and pulled herself together at once, but I had got what I wanted—the fact that she was anxious about the rumpus my good old Khan, tricked out in a suit from Nathan’s and a stage diamond, was raising next door.”
“That seems convincing, certainly,” said Forsyth.
“Azimoolah’s experiences were even more so. Mr. Clinton Ziegler has some associates with a very pretty way with them when Asiatic princes stumble by chance into his rooms. Of course, it was Azimoolah’s cue to be a bit boisterous and persistent, but they needn’t have roused the tiger in him by giving him the con-
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