Mr. C.S. (with hauteur).  I think not, Sir; I have no recollection of the circumstance.  I see now your face is quite unfamiliar to me.

    [He moves away; PODBURY gets a telegram form and sits down
    at a table in the hall opposite CULCHARD.

Culch. (reading over his telegram).  “Yours just received.  Am returning immediately.”

Podb. (do., do.).  “Letter to hand.  No end sorry.  Start at once.” (Seeing CULCHARD.) Wiring to Florence for room, eh?

Culch. Er—­no.  The fact is, I’ve just heard from my Chief—­a—­a most intemperate communication, insisting on my instant return to my duties!  I shall have to humour him, I suppose, and leave at once.

Podb. So shall I. No end of a shirty letter from the Governor.  Wants to know how much longer I expect him to be tied to the office.  Old humbug, when he only turns up twice a week for a couple of hours!

The Porter.  Peg your bardons, Schendlemen, but if you haf qvide done vid ze schtamps on your ledders, I gollect bostage schtamps, yes.

Culch. (irritably flinging him the envelope).  Oh, confound it all. take them. I don’t want them! (He looks at his letter once more.) I say, PODBURY, it—­it’s worse than I thought.  This thing’s a week old!  Must have been lying in my rooms all this time—­or else in that infernal Italian post!

Podb. Whew, old chap!  I say, I wouldn’t be you for something!  Won’t you catch it when you do turn up?  But look here—­as things are, we may as well travel home together, eh?

Culch. (with a flicker of resentment).  In spite of my tendency to “jaw” and “jabber”?

Podb. Oh, never mind all that now.  We’re companions in misfortune, you know, and we’d better stick together, and keep each other’s spirits up.  After all, you’re in a much worse hat than I am!

Culch. If that’s the way you propose to keep my spirits up!—­But let us keep together, by all means, if you wish it, and just go and find out when the next train starts, will you? (To himself, as PODBURY departs.) I must put up with him a little longer, I suppose.  Ah me! How differently I should be feeling now, if HYPATIA had only been true to herself.  But that’s all over, and I daresay it’s better so ...  I daresay!

    [He strolls into the hotel-garden, and begins to read his
    Chief’s missive once more, in the hope of deciphering some
    faint encouragement between the lines.

FINIS.

* * * * *

A TENNYSONIAN FRAGMENT.

[Illustration]