“un homme sérieux est celui qui se croit regardé.”

when lord ferriby decided to accede to roden's earnest desire that he should go to the hague, he was conscious of conferring a distinct favour upon the low countries.

“it is not a place one would choose to go to at this time of year,” he said to a friend at the club. “in the winter, it is different; for the season there is in the winter, as in many continental capitals.”

one of the numerous advantages attached to an hereditary title is the certainty that a hearer of some sort or another will always be forthcoming. a commoner finds himself snubbed or quietly abandoned so soon as his reputation for the utterance of egoisms and platitudes is sufficiently established, but there are always plenty of people ready and willing to be bored by a lord. a high-class club is, moreover, a very mushroom-bed of bores, where elderly gentlemen who have traveled quite a distance down the road of life, without finding out that it is bordered on either side by a series of small events not worth commenting upon, meet to discuss trivialities.

“truth is,” said his lordship to one of these persons, “this malgamite scheme is one of the largest charities that i have conducted, and carries with it certain responsibilities—yes, certain responsibilities.”

and he assumed a grave air of importance almost amounting to worry. for lord ferriby did not know that a worried look is an almost certain indication of a small mind. nor had he observed that those who bear the greatest responsibilities, and have proved themselves worthy of the burden, are precisely they who show the serenest face to the world.

it must not, however, be imagined that lord ferriby was in reality at all uneasy respecting the malgamite scheme. here again he enjoyed one of the advantages of having been preceded by a grandfather able and willing to serve his party without too minute a scruple. for if the king can do no wrong, the nobility may surely claim a certain immunity from criticism, and those who have allowance made to them must inevitably learn to make allowance for themselves. lord ferriby was, in a word, too self-satisfied to harbour any doubts respecting his own conduct. self-satisfaction is, of course, indolence in disguise.

it was easy enough for lord ferriby to persuade himself that cornish was wrong and roden in the right; especially when roden, in the most gentlemanly manner possible, paid a cheque, not to lord ferriby direct, but to his bankers, in what he gracefully termed the form of a bonus upon the heavy subscription originally advanced by his lordship. there are many people in the world who will accept money so long as their delicate susceptibilities are not offended by an actual sight of the cheque.

“anthony cornish,” said lord ferriby, pulling down his waistcoat, “like many men who have had neither training nor experience, does not quite understand the ethics of commerce.”

his lordship, like others, seemed to understand these to mean that a man may take anything that his neighbour is fool enough to part with.

joan was willing enough to accompany her father, because, in the great march of social progress, she had passed on from charity to sanitation, and was convinced that the mortality among the malgamiters, which had been more than hinted at in the ferriby family circle, was entirely due to the negligence of the victims in not using an old disinfectant served up in artistic flagons under a new name. permanganate of potash under another name will not only smell as sweet, but will perform greater sanitary wonders, because the world places faith in a new name, and faith is still the greatest healer of human ills.

joan, therefore, proposed to carry to the hague the glad tidings of the sanitary millennium, fully convinced that this had come to a suffering world under the name of “nuxine,” in small bottles, at the price of one shilling and a penny halfpenny. the penny halfpenny, no doubt, represented the cost of bottle and drug and the small blue ribbon securing the stopper, while the shilling went very properly into the manufacturer's pocket. it was at this time the fashion in joan's world to smell of “nuxine,” which could also be had in the sweetest little blue tabloids, to place in the wardrobe and among one's clean clothes. joan had given major white a box of these tabloids, which gift had been accepted with becoming gravity. indeed, the major seemed never to tire of hearing joan's exordiums, or of watching her pretty, earnest face as she urged him to use “nuxine” in its various forms, and it was only when he heard that cigar-holders made of “nuxine” absorbed all the deleterious properties of tobacco that his stout heart failed him.

“yes,” he pleaded, “but a fellow must draw the line at a sky-blue cigar-holder, you know.”

and joan had to content herself with the promise that he would use none other than “nuxine” dentifrice.

lord ferriby and joan, therefore, set out to the hague, his lordship in the full conviction (enjoyed by so many useless persons) that his presence was in itself of beneficial effect upon the course of events, and joan with her “nuxine” and, in a minor degree now, her “malgamiters” and her “haberdashers' assistants.” lady ferriby preferred to remain at cambridge terrace, chiefly because it was cheaper, and also because the cook required a holiday, and, with a kitchen-maid only, she could indulge in her greatest pleasure—a useless economy. the cook refused to starve her fellow-servants, while the kitchen-maid, mindful of a written character in the future, did as her ladyship bade her—hashing and mincing in a manner quite irreconcilable with forty pounds a year and beer money.

major white met the travellers at the hague station, and joan, who had had some trouble with her father during the simple journey, was conscious for the first time of a sense of orderliness and rest in the presence of the stout soldier, who seemed to walk heavily over difficulties when they arose.

“eh—er,” began his lordship, as they walked down the platform, “have you seen anything of roden?”

for lord ferriby was too self-centred a man to b keenly observant, and had as yet failed to detect von holzen behind and overshadowing his partner in the malgamite scheme.

“no—cannot say i have,” replied the major.

he had never discussed the malgamite affairs with lord ferriby. discussion was, indeed, a pastime in which the major never indulged. his position in the matter was clearly enough defined, but he had no intention of explaining why it was that he ranged himself stolidly on cornish's side in the differences that had arisen.

lord ferriby was dimly conscious of a smouldering antagonism, but knew the major sufficiently well not to fear an outbreak of hostilities. men who will face opposition may be divided into two classes—the one taking its stand upon a conscious rectitude, the other half-hiding with the cheap and transparent cunning of the ostrich. many men, also, are in the fortunate condition of believing themselves to be invariably right unless they are told quite plainly that they are wrong. and there was nobody to tell lord ferriby this. cornish, with a sort of respect for the head of the family—a regard for the office irrespective of its holder—was so far from wishing to convince his uncle of error that he voluntarily relinquished certain strong points in his position rather than strike a blow that would inevitably reach lord ferriby, though directed towards roden or von holzen.

lord ferriby heard, however, with some uneasiness, that the wades were in the hague.

“a worthy man—a very worthy man,” he said abstractedly; for he looked upon the banker with that dim suspicion which is aroused in certain minds by uncompromising honesty.

the travellers proceeded to the hotel, where rooms had been prepared for them. there were flowers in joan's room, which her maid said she had rearranged, so awkwardly had they been placed in the vase. the wades, it appeared, were out, and had announced their intention of not returning to lunch. they were, the hotel porter thought, to take that meal at mrs. vansittart's.

“i think,” said lord ferriby, “that i shall go down to the works.”

“yes, do,” answered white, with an expressionless countenance.

“perhaps you will accompany me?” suggested joan's father.

“no—think not. can't hit it off with roden. perhaps joan would like to see the palace in the wood.”

joan thought that it was her duty to go to the malgamite works, and murmured the word “nuxine,” without, however, much enthusiasm; but white happened to remember that it was mixing-day. so lord ferriby went off alone in a hired carriage, as had been his intention from the first; for white knew even less about the ethics of commerce than did cornish.

the account of affairs that awaited his lordship at the works was, no doubt, satisfactory enough, for the manufacture of malgamite had been proceeding at high pressure night and day. von holzen had, as he told marguerite, been poor all his life, and poverty is a hard task-master. he was not going to be poor again. the grey carts had been passing up and down park straat more often than ever, taking their loads to one or other of the railway stations, and bringing, as they passed her house, a gleam of anger to mrs. vansittart's eyes.

“the scoundrels!” she muttered. “the scoundrels! why does not tony act?”

but tony cornish, who alone knew the full extent of von holzen's determination not to be frustrated, could not act—for dorothy's sake.

a string of the quiet grey carts passed up park straat when the party assembled there had risen from the luncheon-table. mrs. vansittart and mr. wade were standing together at the window, which was large even in this city of large and spotless windows. dorothy and cornish were talking together at the other end of the room, and marguerite was supposed to be looking at a book of photographs.

“there goes a consignment of men's lives,” said mrs. vansittart to her companion.

“a human life, madam,” answered the banker, “like all else on earth, varies much in value.” for mr. wade belonged to that class of englishmen which has a horror of all sentiment, and takes care to cloak its good actions by the assumption of an unworthy motive. and who shall say that this man of business was wrong in his statement? which of us has not a few friends and relations who can only have been created as a solemn warning?

as mrs. vansittart and mr. wade stood at the window, marguerite joined them, slipping her hand within her father's arm with that air of protection which she usually assumed towards him. she was gay and lively, as she ever was, and mrs. vansittart glanced at her more than once with a sort of envy. mrs. vansittart did not, in truth, always understand marguerite or her english, which was essentially modern.

they were standing and laughing at the window, when marguerite suddenly drew them back.

“what is it?” asked mrs. vansittart.

“it is lord ferriby,” replied marguerite.

and looking cautiously between the lace curtains, they saw the great man drive past in his hired carriage. “he has recently bought park straat,” commented marguerite.

and his lordship's condescending air certainly seemed to suggest that the street, if not the whole city, belonged to him.

mr. wade pointed with his thick thumb in the direction in which lord ferriby was driving.

“where is he going?” he asked bluntly.

“to the malgamite works,” replied mrs. vansittart, with significance. and mr. wade made no comment. mrs. vansittart spoke first.

“i asked major white,” she said, “to lunch with us to-day, but he was pledged, it appeared, to meet lord ferriby and his daughter, and see them installed at their hotel.”

“ah!” said mr. wade.

mrs. vansittart, who in truth seemed to find the banker rather heavy, allowed some moments to elapse before she again spoke.

“major white,” she then observed, “does not accompany lord ferriby to the malgamite works.”

“major white,” replied marguerite, demurely, “has other fish to fry.”