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 matter. Yes, he remembered the fat little man now. He got up with a smile on his dark, clean-shaven face and held out his hand.

"How are you, Lord Castleton?"

Lord Castleton laughed. That was his way. He went through life laughing, as if everything were the best joke in the world.

"I'm glad you haven't forgotten me," he said. "By Jove! I haven't forgotten you, and that turn of the wrist which sent that Levantine devil's toothpick spinning. Well, and how are you?"

The men had sat down beside each other on the garden chair. Castleton produced a cigarette-case almost as fat as himself, on which a daintily-painted ballet girl disported.

"Try one!" he said; "they are ripping. Bingham Pasha sent them to me himself. He got them from the Sultan."

Jacynth took a cigarette, lit it from the end of his own, Castleton watching him all the time with the most jocular expression.

"You're not looking very fit," he said. "Those confounded courts, I suppose. By Jove! I shouldn't like to be a lawyer."

"Oh, I'm all right," Jacynth said; "I'm not taking the waters here. My sister lives here, and I've a festive little nephew. I only came here for a rest. I don't quite know why I came here just now though. Kismet, I suppose."