“My dear Sir JOHN,” returned MAURICE FERNANDEZ DEEPWATER, “pray consider yourself mistaken.  As you say, if we all met together for two minutes in a room, the whole thing would be settled.  But then I am distinctly under the impression that AUGUSTE LE GRAND and HENRI LE PETTITT would be confoundedly annoyed.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Sir JOHN, “if you think they would be annoyed, do not say another word about it!”

So the various characters gave one another a clear berth, and missed each other at the nick of time.

But after awhile ROSE was left alone with the Hon. JULIAN BELFORD.

“It is not very clear to me why we haven’t married,” said he.

“Nor to me either!” she replied.  “We dawdled a bit, and I daresay put it off because what one knows can be done at any moment is often not done at all.”

“Well, hadn’t we better go to the British Embassy?”

“Why, yes.” she replied, with some hesitation; “but I really think you had better say you will marry my cousin.  I fancy it would please AUGUSTE and HENRI.”

“Anything to oblige them,” returned the Hon. JULIAN.

“That being settled, please leave me, as I have to fall in a dead faint—­must get an effective Curtain, you know!”

The HON.  JULIAN KNIGHT BELFORD nodded his head, and then ROSE MILLWARD WOODMERE fainted—­with the desired result.

CHAPTER III.—­CACKLE V. ’OSSES.  THE FAVOURITE WINS.

And now Sir JOHN and his considerate circle had come to England, and were close to Liverpool.

“My dear people,” said HENRI, “never mind your love-making, never mind your plot, leave it to AUGUSTE, and he will pull you through.”

And HENRI was quite right.  AUGUSTE went to work with a will, and did pull them through.  He took them to the Grand National Steeple Chace, and showed them and all the world a sight the like of which they had never seen before.  There were real horses, real touts, and a real winner.  Oh, how it went!  It was magnificent!  And, before this great race, AUGUSTE (helped by HENRI this time) showed a training-stable, and how a favourite can be nobbled.  It didn’t in the least matter why it was done, or where it was done.  It was a lovely sight to see somebody or other giving the wrong horse beans.  And the horse liked them, and eat them with a zest, and felt none the worse for them.  On the contrary, the beans seemed to give the creature sufficient vigour to carry on the running until Christmas at Drury Lane, with a trot to Covent Garden to follow, and then back again, perhaps to the old quarters, up to Easter.

[Illustration:  Oss-tentation; or, “Giving him Beans.”]

“Ah, that will make all things right!” cried AUGUSTE. “Voluptuary will carry the whole of us—­Authors, Managers, and Actors—­to victory!” And he was right—­Voluptuary did carry them to success—­a gigantic one.