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"I said no, how could I without data? on which he, his voice dropping to secrecy: 'That comes from a cousin of yours.'

"This had the effect of tickling me, and I said, 'Really! You people the world with my cousins, Rolls?'

"'I have only mentioned two all told,' he answered—'a male and a female.'

"'I think I have only one cousin,' I told him—'a Yankee—millionaire—man named Douglas Macray——'

"'Let's talk low,' he muttered; and added: 'he is our man, sir.'

"'Well, but,' I said, 'the man does not know me'; but then, remembering something, I mentioned that he knew of me, since, some years ago, I got from him an invitation to a ball, but didn't go; on which Rolls said: 'Aye, always giving big parties, fond of fal-lals and high jinks, especially in Paris. You've called him "a Yankee," but he's only half that, since, as you know, his mother and yours were English sisters, and he has mostly lived in France. Curious you never chanced to drop across him. I'll introduce him now to you."

"On this Rolls picked something from a pocket, and, holding it within his fist, brought his fist into contact with my palm, on which he left a disc of cardboard, and I saw the photograph of a man of thirty or so—bearded—something hard-headed, cynical, self-seeking (I fancied)—man of some draught and horse-power, tearing toward his own ends—or that was my impression—something flat and flabby about the upper lip, as though he lacked upper teeth....