so far as a man of education could, became like them. Of course, there are many who follow in his footsteps now, but most of them live in settlements, and only come into actual contact with the people they are trying to help by going in and out amongst them in their own homes. But he was the first; and he really lived with them, in a house with twenty bedrooms, luxuriously furnished, and with a chef and a great many servants. I believe he did actually nothing for himself for two whole years, and, of course, he broke down under the strain."

"Poor fellow!" I murmured sympathetically.

"He went back for a time to the life of poverty in which he had been brought up. But even then, he refused to live like the rest of his family, and, as far as his enfeebled state of health would permit, practised secret indulgences, and never lost sight of his great purpose in life.

"He made a convert of my mother, who was the daughter of a farm-labourer, and of one of the proudest and poorest families in Upsidonia. They started their married life in a comfortable villa, with four indoor servants and two out—my father could not, of course, expect his young wife to take the extreme plunge that he had himself—and he has told me that she acted like a heroine, and never grumbled at the life of strict affluence they laid down for themselves. I was born in that house, and it was my mother's own wish that we then moved to a larger one, where we have lived ever since. We have all been brought up to think nothing of wealth, and each of us in our several ways does his or her utmost to help our parents in their noble work. My eldest sister has even married a stockbroker, and a very good fellow he is, and it is wonderful how he has overcome the defects of his upbringing.

"Well, I have been talking for a long time; but I wanted to show you how dreadful it would be if a man like my father should suffer disgrace for committing an error which only arose from his eager desire to serve one whom he saw to be in an unfortunate position."

"Oh, you need not fear anything of that sort after what you have told me," I assured him. "I would rather go to prison myself—even such a prison as I am in now—than that he should."

"It is very good of you indeed to say so," he said gratefully. "But you need have no fear of this sort of prison. My father would exert his influence to have you sent to Pankhurst, where, chiefly by his efforts, everything is as it should be, and a real attempt is made to raise prisoners. Even in the first division, you would be permitted to do something useful, such as breaking stones, and you would not be expected to eat more than two meals a day, and those quite meagre ones."

"Well, to tell you the truth," I said, "one of my hobbies is to study conditions of prison life in the various countries I visit. I am very glad to have had the opportunity of judging for myself in this way, and though I don't want to go to prison myself any longer, if it can be avoided, you would be conferring a real benefit upon me if you could get me sent to the most luxurious penal establishment you possess, supposing I am found guilty."

"Do you really mean that?" he asked.

"Yes, I really do. I know it must seem odd to you, but I am like that."

He rose and shook hands with me. "I can't tell you how I admire your spirit," he said.

I drank half a glass of port and rose to still greater heights of self-abnegation. I was anxious to show myself worthy of his praise. "As long as I remain in Upsidonia," I said, "I should like to live entirely amongst the very rich, and just as if I were rich myself. Could you manage that for me, do you think, in return for what I am going to do for your father?"

He laughed. "If you really mean it," he said, "there won't be the slightest difficulty. And we are the right people to help you. They might not show themselves as they really are to a stranger, for they stick to one another wonderfully, and the more respectable among them hide their riches as much as possible. Some of the tragedies of wealth one comes across are heart-breaking. But I mustn't begin on that subject, or I should never end. If you can see your way to relieving a few of the rich in Culbut of a little of their load of misery, you will be doing a great work."

"I shall quite hope to be able to do that," I said. "I might be able to take away a considerable sum of money."

Again he shook hands with me, but his emotion did not permit of much speech. "You will have your reward," he said simply.

"I quite hope so," I replied. "What, must you be going? Are you sure you won't take—I mean are you sure you are quite wrapped up enough? The night air is a little chilly."

"Thank you, I shall walk home," he said. "Well, I am very much obliged to you for what you have promised to do. We shan't forget it, and anything we can do for you in return, as long as you remain in Upsidonia, you may be sure we shall do."

CHAPTER V

They seemed to keep early hours in Upsidonia.[1] A cup of tea was brought to me at half-past seven, and I was told that I must breakfast not later than a quarter-past eight, for the court sat at nine.

It was not unlike what a police court in London might have been, but the magistrate sat in his shirt-sleeves, for it was a hot day, and wore corduroy trousers. There was a crowd of well-dressed loafers at the back of the court, and amongst them some richly attired women. Lord Potter, looking as if he had not washed or taken off his clothes since the day before, occupied a seat on the bench. Mr. Perry and his son were in the well of the court.

I gave my name, which I had withheld the night before, as John Howard, but refused to say where I came from or what my occupation was. Apparently, this was not unusual, for I was not pressed in any way.[2]

The policeman who had arrested me deposed that from information received he had proceeded to a certain place and taken me into custody, not without difficulty, for I had shown violence and had tried to get him to arrest another person instead.

Asked whether he saw that person in that court, he indicated Mr. Perry, who looked very uncomfortable, and I said at once: "That was all a mistake, your worship. I had been fast asleep, and hardly knew what I was doing. I mistook that gentleman for somebody else."

My interruption rather scandalised the court, but I managed to get it out before I was stopped, and I could see that the magistrate was relieved at my having spoken.

"There is no charge against our respected fellow-townsman," he said, bowing towards Mr. Perry; and there were murmurs of approbation from the back of the court.

Lord Potter looked black. "The prisoner accused him of taking away his watch," he said, "and trying to get his money. Of course, if nothing had been found on the prisoner the charge would have fallen through. It is quite evident that Mr. Perry wanted to make it appear that I was lying when I said that this man had tried to press money on me."