He knew, and could tell you, the secret history of the last new opera;
how much had been paid for it, what it had cost to produce, and all
about the great green-room cabal against the new prima donna. He knew
what amount of originality could be safely claimed for the last new
drama that was taking the town by storm, and how many times the same
story had been hashed up before. He had read the last French novel of
any note, and could favour you with a few personal reminiscences of its
author not generally known. As regarded political knowledge--if all his
statements were to be trusted--he was informed as to much that was going
on behind the great drop-scene. He knew how the wires were pulled that
moved the puppets who danced in public, especially those wires which
were pulled in Paris, Vienna and St. Petersburg. Before Ducie had been
six hours at Bon Repos he knew more about political intrigues at home
and abroad than he had ever dreamt of in the whole course of his
previous life.

The dining-room at Bon Repos was a long low-ceilinged apartment,
panelled with black oak, and fitted up in a rich and sombre style that
was yet very different from the dull, heavy formality that obtains among
three-fourths of the dining-rooms in English country houses. Indeed,
throughout the appointments and fittings of Bon Repos there was a touch
of something Oriental grafted on to French taste, combined with a
thorough knowledge and appreciation of insular comfort. From the
dining-room windows a lovely stretch of the lake could be seen
glimmering in the starlight, and our two friends sat this evening over
their wine by the wide open sash, gazing out into the delicious night.
Behind them, in the room, two or three candles were burning in silver
sconces; but at the window they were sitting in that sort of half light
which seems exactly suited for confidential talk. Captain Ducie took
advantage of it after a time to ask his host a question which he would