convincing, and I had inextricably identified myself with the
Salvationist. And thus it comes to pass that in ten minutes' time I
shall be hanged by the neck until I am dead in expiation of the
murder of myself, which murder never took place, and of which, in
any case, I am innocent."

* * *

When the Chaplain returned to his quarters some fifteen minutes
later, the black flag was floating over the prison tower. Breakfast
was waiting for him in the dining-room, but he first passed into his
library, and, taking up the Times Atlas, consulted a map of the
Balkan Peninsula. "A thing like that," he observed, closing the
volume with a snap, "might happen to any one."



THE SEX THAT DOESN'T SHOP



The opening of a large new centre for West End shopping,
particularly feminine shopping, suggests the reflection, Do women
ever really shop? Of course, it is a well-attested fact that they
go forth shopping as assiduously as a bee goes flower-visiting, but
do they shop in the practical sense of the word? Granted the money,
time, and energy, a resolute course of shopping transactions would
naturally result in having one's ordinary domestic needs unfailingly
supplied, whereas it is notorious that women servants (and
housewives of all classes) make it almost a point of honour not to