Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1918-12-15
tcoNT1NuED FROM LAST Sunday

AVV0e
''You don't want me any
longer, my lord?"
mot just now"
He opened Kelly's directory. and
looked up the solicitors. till he came
to the name he wanted.
Mortimer Collins. 10. Sergeants Inn,
Fleet street.
That's my man." said he to him.
self, and tomorrow will see him."
He closed the book and left the room.
He did not know the position Of the
dining room. nor did he want to. A
servant seeing him. and taking 1t for
granted that at this late hour he did
not want to dress. opened a door.
Next minute he was seated alone at
e large table. stared at by defunct
Rochesters and their wives. and
spreading his table napkin on his
knees.
The dinner was excellent. though
simple enough. English society has
when Lord Palmerston sat himself
down to devour two helpings Of tur-
tie soup. the same of cod and oyster
sauce, huge plateful Of York ham,
q cut from the Joint. a liberal supply
kickshaws and sweets; the days When
the inside Of q nobleman after dinner
was q provision store floating in
sherry. hook. champagne. old port
. Nothing acts more quickly upon the
roast chicken and salad were served,
Jones found himself enjoying his din
ner: and. more than that. enjoying his
The awful position Of the morning
AA-A
surrounded him was breaking.
Wrecked on this strange. luxuriant.
yet hostile coast. he had met the ma.
tives, fed with them. fought them
and measured their strength and cum.
He was not afraid Of them now. The
members Of the Senior Conserva-
tive Club camp had left him unim.
pressed. and the wild beast voles had
beQueathed to him a lively contempt
Tor Tor the hen mental s1t powers Of the man he
Rightly or wrongly. all lords caught
4 tinge Of the lurid light that showed
UP Rochester's want Of vim and men,
tai hitting power.
preciate the fact that to be a lord was
TO be very great thing. Even lord
like himself.
A single glass Of iced champagne
he allowed himself only one-estab-
lished this conviction in his mind,
also the. recoRnition that the fiunkeys
no longer oppressed him. they rather
pleased him. They knew their work
and performed 1t perfectly. they hung
Yesterday, sitting where he was. he
would have been feeling out Of place,
ana irritable and awkward. Even a
Few hours ago he would have felt OPP
pressed and wanting to escape some
this new magic of assurance and
sense Of mastery Of his position? I'm
Sdtoubtedly 1t was his battle with
conee was served to him in the
alone with a cigar, he began clearly
and for the first time to envisage
his plans for the future.
He could drop everything and run.
Book passage for the United States,
enter New York as Lord Rochester,
just as a diver enters She sea, and
emerge as james. He could keep the
$4,000 with q clear conscience-or
couldn't he?
This point seemed bit obscure.
The main question had not to do
with money. The main question was
amply this: Shall be Victor Jones
for the future or shall be the Earl
Of Rochester? The twenty-first Earl
OF Rochester? ill.,
Shall I clear out, or stick to my
guns7 Remain boss Of this show and
try to make something Of the wreck
age, or sneak of with nothing to
show for the most amazing expert
ence man ever underwent?
Rochester had sneaked off. He
was q gutter. Jones had once read
. story in the Popular Magazine. in
which q railway manager had cast
scorn on q ns'er-do-well. "God does
hate a GUTTER" said, the manager.
} These words always remained with
him. They had crystallized his senti-
nentA in this respect-the gutter
ranked in his mind almost with the
Ali the same the temptation to
quit was strong. even though the
temptation to stay was growing.
A loophole remained open to him.
It was not necessary to decide at
once; he could throw down his cards
at any moment and rise from the
table II the game was getting too
much for him, or IL he grew tired
Of it.
He saw difficult times ahead for
him in the mess in which Rochester
had left his affairs--that was. per-
haps, his strongest incentive to re-
main.
He was reused from his reverie
by voices in the hall-loud, CHEEKY
voices.
A knock came to the door and a
servant announced: "Sir Hugh Spicer