The months that followed September spiraled downward. But, after some restoratives had been administered by Mrs. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink. "You must not remain here another instant," replied Thames. But perhaps I had better get a room in an hotel to-night and look round. When he comes he will do that raid of the pantechnicons the justice it deserves; he will picture the orderly evening scene about the Imperial Legislature in convincing detail, the coming and going of cabs and motor-cabs and broughams through the chill, damp evening into New Palace Yard, the reinforced but untroubled and unsuspecting police about the entries of those great buildings whose square and panelled Victorian Gothic streams up from the glare of the lamps into the murkiness of the night; Big Ben shining overhead, an unassailable beacon, and the incidental traffic of Westminster, cabs, carts, and glowing omnibuses going to and from the bridge. "What do you think of your nephew, Sir Rowland?" whispered Jonathan, who sat with his back towards Thames, so that his features were concealed from the youth's view. His literary instincts began to stir. “Look here,” he said, protruding his eyes; “why get anything to do at all just yet? Why, if you must be free, why not do the sensible thing? Make yourself worth a decent freedom. I wish I could get you to imitate Thames Darrell. ” He handed her the phone reluctantly, barely masking his mild disgust. " "May be," returned the man gravely.
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