"Get me a pen, and ink!"

"Yes, sir."

Now any ordinary mortal might have manifested just a little surprise to behold his master walk suddenly in, dusty and dishevelled of person, his habitual languor entirely laid aside, and to thus demand pen and ink, forthwith. But then, Baxter, though mortal, was the very cream of a gentleman's gentleman, and the acme of valets, (as has been said), and comported himself accordingly.

"Baxter!"

"Sir?"

"Oblige me by getting this cashed."

"Yes, sir."

"Bring half of it in gold."

"Sir," said Baxter, glancing down at the slip of paper, "did you say--half, sir?"

"Yes, Baxter,--I'd take it all in gold only that it would be rather awkward to drag around. So bring half in gold, and the rest in--five pound notes."

"Very good, sir!"

"And--Baxter!"

"Sir?"

"Take a cab!"

"Certainly sir." And Baxter went out, closing the door behind him.

Meanwhile Bellew busied himself in removing all traces of his journey, and was already bathed, and shaved, and dressed, by the time Baxter returned.

Now gripped in his right hand Baxter carried a black leather bag which jingled as he set it down upon the table.

"Got it?" enquired Bellew.

"I have, sir."

"Good!" nodded Bellew. "Now just run around to the garage, and fetch the new racing car,--the Mercedes."

"Now, sir?"

"Now, Baxter!"

Once more Baxter departed, and, while he was gone, Bellew began to pack,--that is to say, he bundled coats and trousers, shirts and boots into a portmanteau in a way that would have wrung Baxter's heart, could he have seen. Which done, Bellew opened the black bag, glanced inside, shut it again, and, lighting his pipe, stretched himself out upon an ottoman, and immediately became plunged in thought.

So lost was he, indeed, that Baxter, upon his return was necessitated to emit three distinct coughs,--(the most perfectly proper, and gentleman-like coughs in the world) ere Bellew was aware of his presence.

"Oh!--that you, Baxter?" said he, sitting up, "back so soon?"

"The car is at the door, sir."

"The car?--ah yes, to be sure!--Baxter."

"Sir?"

"What should you say if I told you--" Bellew paused to strike a match, broke it, tried another, broke that, and finally put his pipe back into his pocket, very conscious the while of Baxter's steady, though perfectly respectful regard.

"Baxter," said he again.

"Sir?" said Baxter.

"What should you say if I told you that I was in love--at last, Baxter!--Head over ears--hopelessly--irretrievably?"

"Say, sir?--why I should say,--indeed, sir?"

"What should you say," pursued Bellew, staring thoughtfully down at the rug under his feet, "if I told you that I am so very much, in love that I am positively afraid to--tell her so?"

"I should say--very remarkable, sir!"

Bellew took out his pipe again, looked at it very much as if he had never seen such a thing before, and laid it down upon the mantelpiece.

"Baxter," said he, "kindly understand that I am speaking to you as--er--man to man,--as my father's old and trusted servant and my early boy-hood's only friend; sit down, John."

"Thank you, Master George, sir."

"I wish to--confess to you, John, that--er--regarding the--er--Haunting Spectre of the Might Have Been,--you were entirely in the right. At that time I knew no more the meaning of the--er--the word, John--"

"Meaning the word--Love, Master George!"

"Precisely; I knew no more about it than--that table. But during these latter days, I have begun to understand, and--er--the fact of the matter is--I'm--I'm fairly--up against it, John!"

Here, Baxter, who had been watching him with his quick, sharp eyes nodded his head solemnly:

"Master George," said he, "speaking as your father's old servant, and your boyhood's friend,--I'm afraid you are."

Bellew took a turn up and down the room, and then pausing in front of Baxter, (who had risen also, as a matter of course), he suddenly laid his two hands upon his valet's shoulders.

"Baxter," said he, "you'll remember that after my mother died, my father was always too busy piling up his millions to give much time or thought to me, and I should have been a very lonely small boy if it hadn't been for you, John Baxter. I was often 'up against it,' in those days, John, and you were always ready to help, and advise me;--but now,--well, from the look of things, I'm rather afraid that I must stay 'up against it'--that the game is lost already, John. But which ever way Fate decides--win, or lose,--I'm glad--yes, very glad to have learned the true meaning of--the word, John."

"Master George, sir,--there was a poet once--Tennyson, I think, who said,--'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,' and I know--that he was--right. Many years ago,--before you were born, Master George, I loved--and lost, and that is how I know. But I hope that Fortune will be kinder to you, indeed I do."

"Thank you, John,--though I don't see why she should be." And Bellew stood staring down at the rug again, till aroused by Baxter's cough:

"Pray sir, what are your orders, the car is waiting downstairs?"

"Orders?--why--er--pack your grip, Baxter, I shall take you with me, this time, into Arcadia, Baxter."

"For how long, sir?"