Order in which we are enrolled-International Organization of Total Abstainers; don't you see?-an easy abbreviation, which forms at the same time a sort of affectionate sobriquet, don't you know! one of those endearing nicknames which are so often met with among the members of harmonious families. And what is our great, our noble Order, but a family upon the widest, the most humanitarian scale! The administrative affairs of the 'Iota' do occasionally require my attendance at the Paris branch. But that is not the motive of my present visit. No; there are certain special aspects of the drink traffic, in the French metropolis, which are capable of emphatically illustrating and enforcing the truths of our great cause, and which for our purposes have never yet been adequately studied. I have a mission to collect material on those aspects of the drink traffic, for our lectures and pamphlets and public demonstrations. Ah, this is a weighty, a colossal question, sir, it is indeed! Think of the correlation between alcoholism and crime! I wish ---I wish I could induce you to enrol yourself in our valiant army."

"Very sorry, sir; but it wouldn't suit my constitution! Let those do it whom it suits. I don't complain, and I

don't want to interfere with them."

"Dear me dear me!-what a sad and dangerous, what a terrible and infinitely perilous frame of mind! I would wager, now, that the unfortunate young man whose apprehension we witnessed at Dover was addicted, now, to the use of alcohol. I would wager it! When shall we rend our fetters, and free ourselves from this gigantic incubus, which is oppressing the heart's blood of civilization, over-shadowing its mighty pulses, and trailing in the dust and mire the snow-white name of Christianity?"

The tumultuous imagery of Brother Neel's rhetorical enthusiasm appeared to extinguish what powers of rejoinder lay at the disposal of Mr. Remington. Their only companion in the compartment began to nod, as though he had dropped off into a doze. Mr. Remington eyed him sharply, and presently allowed his own lids to fall. Brother Neel stared vaguely at the notices in three languages which apprised the isolated and imperilled traveller of the means provided to him for ensuring his personal safety, and which likewise threatened him with. penalties for making use of them. The temperance lecturer moved his lips now and then, raised his eyebrows, frowned, and slightly tossed his head, as though he were again rehearsing perorations. Thus they ran on till they reached Boulogne, the first of the four stoppages on their road to Paris. They might have counted upon remaining undisturbed throughout the journey; but Mr. Remington, who had got up to consult his time-table by the light of a station lamp, was obliged to give way to allow ingress to a new-comer. It was Ernest Vine, alias Grainger, alias, again, Mr. Pritchard.

The night-mail sped out of Boulogne-sur-Mer and turned inland, leaving for good the sand-hills of the coast. Its next destination was Abbeville; but in spite of the considerable distance to be traversed, Mr. Remington's faculty for sleeping in night journeys by the train seemed to have deserted him. His thoughts were evidently as much absorbed as ever by the personality of Mr. Pritchard. His eyes resumed their restless examination of the hawk-like countenance which, this time at any rate, faced, not himself, but another of the travellers -the undersized tenant of the ample ulster. The newcomer had sunk unobtrusively into his place, just as he

did at the outset of the journey. The cane which he deposited in the rack, above his head, had decidedly the aspect of a sword-stick; the small black bag upon his knees might have held conveniently a pair of handcuffs and a revolver; it seemed almost a pity that he was Mr. Pritchard, bound for the south of France, and not, as the observer had too readily suspected, the passenger from Scotland Yard. Mr. Remington drew forth.

his pocket-flask, and took a plentiful draught.

"Abbeville!" shouted a porter, as they ran into a dismal station, hardly anything of which was visible in the darkness of the night. "Abbeville, Abbeville!" echoed faintly down the platform. The train came to a standstill; Mr. Remington folded his rug over one arm; and in another moment the door was hanging open, and there were only three passengers in the compartment. The celerity with which he had accomplished this exit was remarkable in a gentleman of his size. With an almost equal celerity, however, Brother Neel stepped out after him. The temperance lecturer had, indeed, hesitated an instant, but a glance at the two travelling companions. who were left to him apparently sufficed to lead him to a prompt decision.

When Brother Neel alighted on the Abbeville platform the French guard was already signalling the train onwards. He made for the only other carriage-door which hung open, and found himself again alone with Mr. Remington. The night-mail dashed away in the direction of Amiens.

"I did not like the look of those men," said Mr. Remington, somewhat embarrassed.

"Nor did I myself, I am bound to confess," replied Brother Neel; "and I thought I would follow your

example. One may be doing them an injustice; butwell, there! I did not like their look."

"Not that I ever make these long journeys with large sums of money about me. I buy in rather extensive quantities, but I always pay my dealers in Paris by draft on an English banking-house which has a Paris branch. I never travel with much more than the small change absolutely necessary. In fact, I lost over the last transaction in the Paris market, and trade has been so bad that I had thought it hardly worth while coming over to buy.”

"Dear me! And do they consider this line to the North at all insecure? I mean the cases of outrage, and so forth, on the French railway systems-the cases we have read of in the public press: are they associated, now, with this line at all?”

"The Northern line? Oh, no. I should say that the southern and eastern railways of France are more dangerous, but there was a mysterious case some time ago on a western line; it was never cleared up.”

"A case of- -?"

"Murder!"

It would not

"Bless me-now, really! Well, well. in the least surprise me if that Mr. Pritchard, as he calls himself, were a detective-officer after all, though I don't know why he should deny it. But those men love to make a little mystery; it attracts attention to them, flatters their vanity, and makes them appear important even when they have achieved nothing."

"You seem to know them, sir," said Mr. Remington, with a smile.

"Oh, very slightly, very slightly, I assure you. But one of our dear friends-not a colleague in the I.O.T.A., but a brother lecturer in the temperance cause, a worthy;

dear friend, he was, and an able-almost fell a victim some few years ago to the malice and obstinacy of one of these men, and none of us, I am sure, are ever likely to forget the event. For my part, I must say that I regard the companionship of detective-officers as little less compromising than that of criminals. Who knows where detectives have sprung from? They do say that exthieves make the very best thief-takers. Imagine honest people at the mercy of an ex-criminal! The painful case of my worthy dear friend inspired me with an aversion for the entire class, although there are members of the detective force enrolled in our organizations."

"Well, if that man isn't from Scotland Yard I'm greatly mistaken. He has quite the cut of it; and they go wrong so often- as in the case you speak of-that I am glad to be out of his company."

The conversation drifted into general topics. While thus engaged they were both startled momentarily by the sudden appearance of a head at the window.

"Oh, the ticket-inspector, of course!" exclaimed Mr. Remington, laughing jovially.

"What-once more?" said Brother Neel.

"The last time on the journey," explained the other. The inspection of the tickets was performed as usual by the French guard of the train, who passed from compartment to compartment, opening the doors easily and closing them again quietly, as the mail rushed at its fastest rate towards Paris. Brother Neel remarked upon the possible danger of this operation, on a night, as he said with striking originality, "dark as Erebus;" but Mr. Remington assured him that the process was the simplest thing in the world, and that there were details in the construction of the carriages which expressly facilitated it.