Adipocere!' exclaimed he, with horror, not, however, unmixed with scientific interest. "This was once a human being, and now through merely opening a fire plug-a Central Fire plugEmotion choked his utterance. Thank Heaven, it cannot be Dodo or Lotty,' murmured he presently; they are women, but they would never pry into my secrets. It can't be Charley, because (though he is such a fool) he is a gentleman. It can't be Duncombe, or any of the servants, because they're afraid to enter the study on account of the electrical machine. It must therefore be poor Sir Rupert! Who would have thought to look at that tiny spot that a minute ago it was a live knight (a knight banneret he used to call himself, and perhaps it was so, for nobody contradicted him) and a member of the British Legislature? If he were only alive, poor dear, to see himself thus, he would say it was only one more proof (if proof were wanting) of the correctness of his theory, that everything looks as different as possible from what it is, or at all events from what it was. Adipocere! He had always a fancy for being in the Encyclopædia, and there he is. This is very curious.' (Here an idea appeared to strike Mr. Raymond, for he took out his pocket-book and made a rough note.) It has always puzzled anatomists and homicides how to dispose of a dead body. Well, nothing is easier. Reduce it to adipocere, and then, with a piece of brown paper and a hot iron above it remove the spot. Mr. Raymond suited the action to the word, so that nothing in fact remained of the great advocate of the Rule of Contrary but a slight stain on the brown paper about the size of half a crown. He might have been applied with vinegar for a bruise, and nobody would have been any the wiser.

It is better so,' murmured Mr. Raymond, regarding this memento of his friend with pitying eyes-it is better so than that there should be a row about it. It is true I am a magistrate, but not even a magistrate is bound to commit himself (though he often does it). Besides, there is absolutely nothing (or at all events not enough) for any coroner to sit upon. I shall not even tell Dodo; for she will be sure to say, it all comes of working in one's laboratory upon a Christmas Day. As for this Central Fire experiment, the subject has become too painful to be pursued at present.' Then, blowing (as his custom was when greatly moved), Mr. Raymond ascended to the drawing-room, where he found all (save one, and 'ah, the difference to him!') much as he left them. "Why, Dodo, you were asleep!' exclaimed he playfully.

'No, Harry, I was only keeping time to the oratorio; I do assure you I have never closed my eyes.'

'Nor Charley and Lotty their mouths,' said Mr. Raymond,

turning to the young people with an air of gaiety that it cost him much to assume. 'What can you two find to talk about?'

'One another,' answered Charley simply.

'That's better than talking of oneself,' observed Mrs. Raymond, eager to shield her nephew from the consequences of this imprudent speech; and, by-the-by, where is Sir Rupert ?'

'He-he-he,' said Mr. Raymond; he was not laughing; it was no laughing matter: he was hesitating; lying was not his forte, nor his weakness. 'He-he has gone away.'

'Gone away! why, where's he gone to?'

Ah! that I don't know,' answered Mr. Raymond eagerly; it was a relief to him to be able to tell the literal truth.

'But this is shocking, Harry; he must have been offended with us. People will say that you made your house too hot to hold him.'

'I hope not,' sighed Mr. Raymond, with a shudder. 'Let us talk of somebody else.'

What became of Sir Rupert never was discovered. The disappearance of the Hon. Member had been so complete (the Government organs said 'so satisfactory') that there was no end to the unnatural suggestions made by the press to account for it. Even the Times,' the only high priced (farthing) paper we have left, could find no more common-place solution than that a Cannibal Society must have been established amongst us (inexcusable considering the sheep lozenges), and that Sir Rupert had fallen their first victim-the First of a Series. The effects of this were temporarily shocking, for nervous people went about catching rashes, measles, and other harmless but objectionable-looking complaints, in order to render themselves uninviting to the palate. The real secret was confided one day after dinner by Mr. Raymond to his brother the Dean, over a bottle of claret with the yellow seal; the seal of confession, as you would think, under the circumstances; yet the ecclesiastic, being a strong Protestant, did not hesitate to publish the main features of the story in a little tract, called Playing with Fire; a Caution to Young People.' His wife, who was a fashionable authoress, used the same materials for a thirty-three volume novel, entitled 'Adipocere,' so there has been really no breach of confidence in my relating the incident as it actually occurred.

MAR 31 1915

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