beatifically. I did not replenish my glass, but when we rose the bottle was empty.

   "Well, Colonel, what do you say to a music hall?" I asked.

   "My boy," he replied, as he patted me on the back, "I sleep far more comfortably in my bed."

   I realized where the contents of the bottle had gone by the sententiousness of my friend's phrasing, the slight turgidity, so to speak, of his articulation.

   "My dear boy," he continued, "I have never known you until this moment. You are greater than Columbus. Any one might discover a new continent, but in these days it needs exceptional qualities of enterprise and endurance to discover a fresh restaurant. I am content. Let us go home."

   We donned our overcoats and came into the open air. Winter's motor was waiting at the door in charge of a man from the

    garage

   where he had left it. We stepped in.

   The car my friend drove was a magnificent 22-horse Daimler, built to his own specification and capable of doing considerably more than any car I had hitherto been privileged to ride upon. Of course while passing through the streets there was little chance of exhibiting its capabilities. Yet even there, the way the car glided in and out of the traffic, delicately responsive to the slightest touch of the steering wheel, was sufficient evidence of its quality to set the most nervous passenger at ease. As it was as yet too early for the after theatre traffic to fill the streets and compel us to stop every few minutes, we followed the main road up Oxford Street as far as the Marble Arch. There we turned to the right. Once clear of the narrow part of the Edgeware Road, Winter put on his second speed and a very few minutes seemed

   to have passed before we were bumping over a rough bit of roadway by Cricklewood.

   "There's not much of this," said Winter, cheerily over his shoulder to the Colonel.

   Our gastronomic friend merely grunted for reply, and I should have thought him to be asleep had not the red glow of his cigar assured me that he was still awake.

   Winter jammed on his third speed and the hedges began to fly past us. We were in the country now and were able to appreciate the fineness of the night. Indeed it was a perfect night. The air was sharp but without 

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