in, wondering why he should call on me.  By Indian etiquette, if there was to be any calling, it was my duty to make the first visit.  Before I had time to think more I heard the clanking of spurs and sabre on the verandah, and the young man walked in, clad in the full uniform of his regiment.  I rose to greet him, and was struck by his soldierly bearing and straight figure, as I had been at our first meeting.  He took off his bearskin —­for he was in the fullest of full dress—­and sat down.

“I am so glad to find you at home,” he said:  “I feared you might have gone to church, like everybody else in this place.”

“No.  I went early this morning.  I belong to a different persuasion.  I suppose you are on your way to Peterhof?”

“Yes.  There is some sort of official reception to somebody,—­I forget who,—­and we had notice to turn out.  It is a detestable nuisance.”

“I should think so.”

“Mr. Griggs, I came to ask you about something.  You heard of my proposal to get up a tiger-hunt?  Mr. Ghyrkins was speaking of it.”

“Yes.  He wanted us to go,—­Mr. Isaacs and me,—­and suggested leaving his niece, Miss Westonhaugh, with Lady Smith-Tompkins.”

“It would be so dull without a lady in the party.  Nothing but tigers and shikarries and other native abominations to talk to.  Do you not think so?”

“Why, yes.  I told Mr. Ghyrkins that all the little Smith-Tompkins children had the measles, and the house was not safe.  If they have not had them, they will, I have no doubt.  Heaven is just, and will not leave you to the conversational mercies of the entertaining tiger and the engaging shikarry.”

“By Jove, Mr. Griggs, that was a brilliant idea:  and, as you say, they may all get the measles yet.  The fact is, I have set my heart on this thing.  Miss Westonhaugh said she had never seen a tiger, except in cages and that kind of thing, and so I made up my mind she should.  Besides, it will be no end of a lark; just when nobody is thinking about tigers, you go off and kill a tremendous fellow, fifteen or sixteen feet long, and come back covered with glory and mosquito bites, and tell everybody that Miss Westonhaugh shot him herself with a pocket pistol.  That will be glorious!”

“I should like it very much too; and I really see no reason why it should not be done.  Mr. Ghyrkins seemed in a very cheerful humour about tigers last night, and I have no doubt a little persuasion from you will bring him to a proper view of his obligations to Miss Westonhaugh.”  He looked pleased and bright and hopeful, thoroughly enthusiastic, as became his Irish blood.  He evidently intended to have quite as “good” a “time” as Isaacs proposed to enjoy.  I thought the spectacle of those rivals for the beautiful girl’s favour would be extremely interesting.  Lord Steepleton was doubtless a good shot and a brave man, and would risk anything to secure Miss Westonhaugh’s approval; Isaacs, on the other hand, was the sort of man who is very much the same in danger as anywhere else.