unison with the rest of the man’s heroic fibre. “My visit is professional primarily, but I hope to see something of England during my enforced stay; if not of its scenery, at least of its scientific side.”

“Doctor Hallamar means the hospitals,” the Count laughed. “He would rather see an interesting operation than the finest view in the world. You know the Doctor is the only man in Europe who can cure a certain form of disease.”

Hallamar smiled deprecatingly. “Let us say, treat it, Count. I fear I cannot often undertake to cure it.”

“Oh, you are modest, Doctor,” Alexia laughed. “And you have come over to attend a special case?”

Hallamar bowed assent. “A lady who has lost the use of her limbs through an accident. As a diplomatist’s sister, Countess, you will not expect me to say more.” He beamed inscrutably through his spectacles. “My mission may be a failure, and then the less we shall have said about it the better.”

“I can’t imagine you a failure, Doctor,” Alexia said, and truly, as her eyes rested with admiration on the strong, resourceful face.

Hallamar’s smile had a touch of regret now.

“I would, Countess, that your gracious words did not[35] carry with them to me the sting of unintended satire.”

[35]

“What is all this about the discovery at Vaux House?” Count Prosper asked.

“Oh, we are to have the whole account to-morrow in the papers,” his sister replied. “We can scarcely trouble Mr. Greetland to go over the story again.”

The Mayfair newsman seemed not disinclined to repeat the recitation to a, perhaps, more appreciative listener; but the Count, accustomed to take his sister’s slightest hint, abandoned any further show of curiosity. But he said presently, “We were at that ball at Vaux House, weren’t we, Alix? Yes; I recollect poor Martindale. Good-looking fellow he was.”

“You remember the sensation his death caused,” Sir Perrott said. “Half the smart women in town, married and single, were supposed to be hit by it.”

Doctor Hallamar’s smile had faded. He was not interested and he showed it.

Baron de Daun and Dormer Greetland rose to go at the same time. Greetland’s adieux were the more lengthy; he had so many social loose 

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