"How are you, Henry? Sit down, my boy.
I was sorry to keep you kicking your heels on
that dull landing. There was a little matter to
settle" (his eyes glanced towards a window which
the officer now observed to be open). " But put
up those toys of yours. You fellows are never
happy but when you're fiddling with a pistol-
butt. Have some wine. My name's Lord Lob.
What can I do for you?"

"You young sprigs of fashion," said the
officer, trying to adopt the other's tone,
"sometimes leave London without settling all your
accounts. Now, I've a little one here."

"A warrant, eh?" said Lord Lob, good
humouredly, refilling his pipe from a satin
tobacco-pouch, on which his arms were wrought.
"What is a warrant? I never saw one close.
Pitch it over."

"I can't do that, my lord," said Armour,
"but here it is, you see. It's not quite so large
as a patent of nobility; but perhaps it's big
enough to be a match for yours."

"Ha! ha! Good. Henry makes a joke!" said
his lordship, with a languid titter. " But to
come to business, since you're not bright enough
for a buffoon; what is your commerce with us,
old merchant of capiases, and purveyor of any
amount of hardware of the jug description?"

"There are several dozen little matters
requiring your attention," said Armour; " but the
latest is this affair in Jermyn-street. Look you,
my lord, my time is precious, and, besides,
I'm afraid that if you don't come with me at
once, the highly-respectable lodgers below, will
have their slumbers broken by some impatient
friends of mine, who must be rather near your
door."

"Go with you, Hal, eh?" said Lord Lob, as
though considering of the proposal. " Humph!
By the way, I saw you looking round just now,
wondering, and very naturally, what has become
of the excellent young man who accompanied
you here? Step this way."

He rose, and strolled towards the window,
followed by the officer.

"Look out!"

Keeping, all the time, fully on his guard,
Armour peeped out. The window, as he had
supposed, looked down upon the river, now at
ebb, and was not much less than a hundred feet
from the ground. The moon had risen, and
Armour, to his horror, distinctly saw the form
of the traitor thief, lying doubled up as no living
man could lie, as he had been flung headlong
from the window. The struggle he had overheard
was fearfully accounted for.

"The fool forgot the window!" sneered the
robber, his fair face distorted like a fiend's.
"Let other fools take warning. Look here!"

He made a sudden movement, as though to
leap through the window: but, checking himself
suddenly, slipped under the officer's uplifted
arm, and, making one bound towards the door,
disappeared. Quick and unexpected as the
action was, the ready officer had drawn a pistol
and fired, even as the door was flung in his
face. Then he dashed after. There was an
alarm below; there were shouts, and the rattles
of the watch, as these latter, roused by the
attack of the police upon the house, hastened
to contribute their quota of noise if not of
assistance. The alarmed inhabitants of the
place, which wore the appearance of a low
lodging-house, ran to and fro in wild confusion.
They were collected, and placed in custody for
the moment, while the house was searched from
top to bottom. All, however, was in vain. There
was no trace of the fugitive nobleman. By
what outlet he had escaped, no one could
divine. Gone he was—and there an end!

Burning with rage and disappointment, Armour
hastened round to the rear of the house
where he had seen the body of the murdered
spy. There it still lay. They lifted it up. The
clothes were his, sure enough, but the body was
represented by a brown pillow. Lord Lob had
himself enacted the part of one of his own gang.

"Done, and doubly done!" growled Mr. Armour,
as he moved disconsolately home.

ENGLAND OVER THE WATER.

When the Melbourne and Suburban Railway
was being formed, said a thriving Melbourne
publican to me: " Ah, yes, a very good line I
hear it will be; but there's one thing I can't
make out about it, and that's where Suburban
is. I think it must be some place up the
country."

There are many people in Old England who
speculate as wisely concerning the most obvious
things in the other England on the opposite side
of the world. Nothing so surprises an Australian
who comes to England, accustomed, naturally
enough, to think his late residence a place
of some importance, as the wonderful extent of
the common ignorance concerning things Australian;
and this, not only on out of the way matters,
but on such as are to be learnt by a very
slight exercise of attention to the current news
brought from the colony. It does not occur
now, so often as formerly, but it is still a fact,
that letters reach Australia for " Sydney,
Melbourne," or " Adelaide, New South Wales," or
"Melbourne, South Australia." The old custom
of lumping the various Australian colonies together
under the comprehensive name of " Botany
Bay," is, I believe, extinct, and that is something.
Yet to this day many people seem hardly
to know that Melbourne, Sydney, and Adelaide,
are distinct cities, hundreds of miles apart. I
know for certain that simple-minded folk exist
who seriously doubt whether the children of
European parents born in Australia, are really
black or only copper-coloured.

The Australian, with a warm heart for
England, neither likes all this, nor deserves it.
We do our best to be like you at home; in
Melbourne, at any rate, which is the chief city
of our other England. Be good enough to