and moustache; he had his long fair hair closely cropped and stained black.  But there was on his face one certain mark of identification which he could not alter nor remove.  It was a slight scar, extending diagonally across his forehead; when he was a child he once fell into the fender, and the mark had remained ever since.  At last the bright idea occurred to him that he might have the back of his head photographed instead of his face, and so keep his promise to MIRANDA.  It was really a brilliant idea.  For there was absolutely nothing in the view of the back of his head by which he could be identified.”

“But you told me just now that he actually was identified by your photograph.”

“So he was;—­I was just going to explain.  I was sitting in my studio one day, touching up the photographs of the back-view of PUNYER, when in came a detective from Scotland Yard.  From his appearance, a detective was the last thing on earth that you would have taken him to be.”

“They generally say that in the detective stories,” I said, meditatively.

“If you think I’m making this up—­”

“No, no,—­not at all.  Go on.”

“Well, he told me his business, and I at once showed him one of the photographs, telling him under what circumstances they were taken.  He examined it carefully.  ‘Ah!’ he said, ’if I only could prove that this was PUNYER, I should be able to complete my case, and my advancement would be certain.  In my own mind I am convinced of it, but at present I cannot prove it.  PUNYER had a scar on his face.  It was like his devilish cunning to have only the back of his head photographed!’ He was just leaving, when suddenly a new idea seemed to flash across him.  He seized the photograph, and rushed across to the mirror.  You know that if anything is written backwards, you can read it by holding it up to a looking-glass.  So, of course, the detective, by holding up the photograph of the back-view, saw the full-face reflected.  The scar showed just above the green veil, and consequently—­”

At this point the boy returned with my change.  The photographer had locked himself into the dark room, and I could not get at him; the law gives a man no redress under such circumstances, and so I came away.

I might have got over the story, perhaps; but my change, I found afterwards, was sixpence short, and that is not so easy to forgive.

* * * * *

“ENTERTAINMENT.”

["People of this high class (Royal Highnesses, &c.) are said to ‘entertain’ visitors, but that is an inversion of the actual fact; their object is to be entertained.  And quite right too.  Nothing can surely be more delightful than to have one’s house full of friends at will, and then be able to turn them out at a moment’s notice (as a life-boat gets rid of superfluous water) by that simple mechanism of a Chamberlain.  When the Social System attains its acme, all of us will have a Chamberlain and be entertained.”—­JAMES PAYN.]

Host (concerning Guest):—­