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The Strand Magazine.

Martin had no answer. He was dazed. Keggs had spoken with the proud humility of an emperor compelled by misfortune to shine shoes.

"Might I have a word with you, sir?"

"Ye-e-ss, yes," stammered Martin. "Won't you take a—I mean, yes, certainly."

"It is perhaps a liberty," began Keggs. He paused, and raked Martin with the eye that had rested on dining dukes.

"Not at all," said Martin, hurriedly.

"I should like," went on Keggs, bowing, "to speak to you on a somewhat intimate subject—Miss Elsa."

Martin's eyes and mouth opened slowly.

"You are going the wrong way to work, if you will allow me to say so, sir."

Martin's jaw dropped another inch.

"Wha-a——"

"You are going the wrong way to work, if you will allow me to say so, sir."

"Women, sir," proceeded Kegus, "young ladies—are peculiar. I have had, if I may say so, certain hopportunities of observing their ways. Miss Elsa reminds me in some respects of Lady Angelica Fendall, whom I had the honour of knowing when I was butler to her father, Lord Stockleigh. Her ladyship was hinclined to be romantic. She was fond of poetry, like Miss Elsa. She would sit by the hour, sir, listening to young Mr. Knox reading Tennyson, which was no part of his duties, he being employed by his lordship to teach Lord Bertie Latin and Greek and what not. You may have noticed, sir, that young ladies is often took by Tennyson, hespecially in the summer time. Mr. Barstowe was reading Tennyson to Miss Elsa in the 'all when I passed through just now. 'The Princess,' if I am not mistaken."

"I don't know what the thing was," groaned Martin. "She seemed to be enjoying it."

"Lady Angelica was greatly addicted to