and Mrs. Fogo have been called upon by
the _Cumeelfo_. Some months ago the Admiral button-holed me in the
street.
"I say, who are all those people staying with--with your friends? I
mean, the strangers I saw in Church yesterday--a very creditable lot,
upon my word."
"I am glad you approve of them," I answered gravely. "The lady with
the spectacles is Miss Gamma Girton, the Novelist of Agnosticism; the
tall man in black, Thomas Daniel, the critic--"
"Oh, literary people."
"Quite. Then there is Sir Inchcape Bell, the great Engineer; and
Lady Judy Twitchett--her husband (the young man with the bald head)
sits for Horkey-boro', you know, and will be in the Cabinet with the
next--"
But the Admiral was already hurrying down the street. That very
afternoon he took his family up to Kit's House, to call; and has been
calling at short intervals ever since.
The Goodwyn-Sandys, unless we are sharper than the police, we shall
never see again. So close was the pursuit, however, that they were
forced to leave the portmanteau in the cloak-room at Paddington
Station, where it was discovered and opened. It contained a highly
curious clock-work toy, and enough dynamite to raze St. Paul's to the
ground. Even without exploding, it converted three statesmen to Home
Rule.
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