to be a dummy.

"What is it?" he curtly demanded.

"Butts left this morning, sir, soon after daylight, in order to catch a train to the West. His closest living relative is dying, I believe; I persuaded him not to trouble you last night by asking your permission."

"What a cursed nuisance!" cried Sir William with a frown. "I expect guests to dinner here to-morrow night. When will Butts return?"

"I don't think he will come back, sir, he has expectations of inheriting a little fortune; he has, however, given me minute instructions regarding the dinner, and if you will be good enough to confide the matter to my hands, I think I can promise that you'll not be disappointed!"

"You are an invaluable fellow, Brown," said my master in tones of great relief. "Certainly, take charge of everything. I know that I can trust you."

"Thank you, sir," I said demurely. "Will your guests be the same as last time, sir?"

"Yes!" He shrugged his shoulders and slipped his arms into the coat I held out for him.

"And will they be placed at table as before, sir?"

"Exactly. But what about my breakfast this morning, Brown?"

"It will be ready for you in five minutes, sir."

I slipped out of the room and hurried down stairs. I had not studied my master's tastes for nothing. The breakfast I had prepared comprised every dainty that he cared about, and the look of surprise he cast about the table sufficiently rewarded my forethought.

"Why, Brown," said he, as he sat down, "you are a perfect treasure. If Butts does not return I shall feel inclined to double your duties and your pay. Some years ago I had a valet who managed the whole house without assistance."

"I could do that," I assured him quietly. "There is really only work here for one man, sir. Pardon me for saying it, sir, but half my time so far has hung upon my hands, and I detest being idle, sir."

"Well, well, we shall see," he replied. I felt that I had gained my point and I said no more.

I made four pounds in spot cash by way of commission in ordering the dinner. It was really very easy. The restaurateurs were so anxious indeed to secure my custom that I might have made more, but I am not a greedy man, and four sovereigns seemed a lot to me just then.

The dinner passed off much as the first had done. Similar grisly jokes were interchanged in the French tongue, and many bets were concluded between Sir William and his guests. They toasted the tubercle bacillus again, and after I had served the nut cream Mr. Cavanagh handed a cheque for £7,000 to Sir William and then resigned his office in favour of Dr. Fulton, just as Mr. Pardoe had done upon the former occasion. I noticed that Mr. Pardoe looked very ill, frightfully ill, in fact, and his cough was horrible to hear. It is true that all looked worse than they had before, but Mr. Pardoe had outstripped the others, and he was mercilessly rallied on his appearance. The most consequential wager was arranged between Mr. Humphreys and Sir Charles Venner. The latter laid the former six to four in hundreds that Mr. Pardoe would die within the next month. I shall never forget Mr. Pardoe's face as he listened. Its expression was indescribably vexed and full of despair, but the others roared with laughter to see it. As for me, I confess that their laughter sickened me, and I had to slip out of the room in order to recover my nerve. Such monstrous disregard of a fellow creature's manifest anguish inspired me with dismay and something like terror. Were these people men of flesh and blood, I asked myself, or ghouls? But my curiosity was so poignant that I soon returned, and when they trooped out to the card room I followed closely at their heels.

The same formula was observed as upon the first occasion that I had witnessed. The cheque was placed upon the table and all gathered round to watch and throw the dice.

Sir Charles Venner was the first to cast. As he rattled the box he looked about him with a sort of snarling smile. "By all the laws of chance it should be my turn!" he declared. "I have never won the incubus yet!"

He threw eighteen! The others exclaimed, but Mr. Cavanagh did more. He stepped back from the throng and gritting his teeth he threw out his clenched hands with a gesture of savage abandon. "There," said I to myself, "is a man who wishes more passionately to win than the rest, but why?"

"Cavanagh, your turn," said Dr. Fulton.

The artist's face was chalk white as he took up the box. "You tremble!" cried Sir Charles in mocking tones. "You tremble!"

"Bah!" exclaimed Mr. Cavanagh, and he threw.

"Eighteen!" shouted Dr. Fulton.

Sir Charles flushed crimson, and swore beneath his breath. But Mr. Cavanagh uttered a cry of triumph that had yet in it a note of agony. I watched him attentively thenceforward, because it suddenly occurred to me that he would better repay such trouble than the others. His passions were least well controlled of any there. His was the weakest face and most ingenuous. I determined that he should be my key to the mystery I wished to solve. He was a wonderfully handsome person, small, slight, elegant, exquisite. His hair was thick and black, but his moustache and pointed beard were of rich red gold. He had large and singularly soulful eyes, whose colour changed with light from black to amber. His mouth, however, though full and beautifully shaped, betrayed a vacillating and unstable disposition. I judged him for a man to trust, to admire, to like, but not to lean upon. He waited for his turn to throw again in a fever of inquietude. His hands clenched and unclenched. His features spasmodically twitched and the tip of his nose moved up and down with alarming speed. Not any of the others was lucky enough to throw eighteen, so presently Sir Charles Venner took up the dice again. He looked perfectly indifferent, but I saw his eyes, and they were gleaming. He allowed the dice to fall one by one.

"Seven!" announced Dr. Fulton.

Sir Charles bit his lip and handed the box in silence to Mr. Cavanagh.

The latter threw eight. Dropping the box he darted forward and clawed up the cheque, with a strangled, animal-like cry. The others exchanged glances of disgust; all, that is to say, except my master. He shot a look of passionate menace at the artist and called him in a dreadful voice by name.

Mr. Cavanagh stood erect, shaking and ghastly. He seemed convulsed with shame.

"I—I—forgive me, I am not myself to-night," he muttered.

"A fine, a fine," shouted Mr. Humphreys. "He has pleaded his ill-health."

"Ay, ay," cried the others, "a fine!"

"Twenty pounds!" said Sir William Dagmar.

Mr. Cavanagh paid the money to my master without demur. Sir William gave it to Dr. Fulton, and a second later all were seated at the table.

I served them with coffee, and they began to play. My master had no luck that night—he lost about four hundred pounds. Mr. Cavanagh also lost rather heavily, and so did Dr. Fulton. The principal winners were Mr. Pardoe and Sir Charles Venner; Mr. Humphreys left off as he commenced, while Mr. Husband disgustedly declared that he had won a paltry sovereign. As before, on the first stroke of midnight the game broke up and all arose. As before, no farewell greetings were exchanged, but the guests departed after curtly nodding to their host. My master looked more wearied than I had ever seen him. He retired at once to bed, and he was half asleep before he touched the pillow with his head. But I was more than pleased thereat, for the time was ripe to prosecute the first move of my plan. As soon as he dismissed me, I hurried to my room, and in less than twenty minutes I was Sir William Dagmar to the life, save for one tiny circumstance. My master, as I have previously mentioned, possessed a fine set of teeth, but his right incisor was lacking. When I had impersonated him for Butts' benefit, that detail had not troubled me, for Butts was a dull, unobservant creature. I reflected, however, that Mr. Cavanagh might be of a