cerning Beau as a companion. When I had humbly invited him to drink out of my saucer, which I held from high tide to low, I saw that my conquest of his mistress was complete. Already we had exchanged names, as well as some confidences. I knew that she was Miss Paget, and she knew that I was Lys d'Angely; but after the tea-drinking episode she became doubly friendly.
She told me that, owing to an unforeseen circumstance (partly, even largely, connected with Beau) which had caused a great upheaval in her life, she had now not a human being belonging to her, except her maid Simpkins, of whom she would like to get rid if only she knew how.
"Talk of the Old Man of the Sea!" she sighed. "He was an afternoon caller compared with Simpkins. She 's been on my back for twenty years. I suppose she will be for another twenty, unless I slam the door of the family vault in her face."
"Couldn't Beau help you?" I asked.
"Even Beau is powerless against her. She has hypnotized him with marrow bones."
"You 've escaped from her for the present," I suggested. "She 's on the other side of the Channel. Now is your time to be bold."
"Ah, but I can't stop out of England for ever, and I tell you she 's waiting for me at Dover. A relative (a very eccentric one, and quite different from the rest of us, or he would n't have made his home abroad) has left me a house in Italy, some sort of old castle, I believe—so unsuitable! I 'm going over to see about selling it for I 've no one to trust but myself, owing to the circumstances of which I spoke. I want to get back as soon as
