without spilling a drop. The Indian judge sprang up, roared 'Hussy!' and knocked the table over with a prodigious racket, then proceeded to pick the table up again. 'Is it like this everywhere?' asked Hugo of Shawn. And Shawn nodded. 'I might have foreseen,' Hugo murmured. 'I'll try to get you some tea, sir,' Shawn said, with an attempt to be cheerful. 'Don't leave me,' begged Hugo, like a sick child. 'Don't leave me.' 'Only for a moment, sir,' said Shawn, departing. Hugo felt that he was about to swoon, that he had suffered just as much as a man could suffer, and that Fate was dropping the last straw on the camel's back. His head fell forward. He was beaten for that day by too many mysteries and too many tortures. And then he observed that the pretty young woman who had stolen the cup of tea from the Indian judge was hastening towards him with the cup of tea in one hand and several pieces of bread-and-butter in the other. 'Drink this, Mr. Hugo,' she whispered, standing over him. He hesitated. _'Drink it, I say, or must I throw it over you?'_ He sipped, and sipped again, obediently. 'Good, isn't it?' she questioned. He looked up at her. He was stronger already. 'It's very good,' he said, with conviction. 'Now a bit of bread-and-butter. Thanks.' Yes, the excellence and power of the Hugo tea was not to be denied, and he was deeply glad in that moment that he owned his private plantations in Ceylon. 'Who are you, may I ask?' he demanded of his rescuer. 'If you please, sir, I'm Albert's wife.' 'Albert?' 'Albert Shawn, your detective, sir.' 'Of course you are!' 'You gave us a bedroom suite for a wedding present, sir.' 'Of course I did! By the way, where's Albert?'