"and trust you will give me a helping hand, as you know the Presidency so well."
"Stark staring mad!" exclaimed Colonel Tallboys, pushing away the letter with a gesture of irritation. "Never heard of such an idea, never. Help!" The words seemed to choke him. "Well, I must put all this bother out of my head, and set to work, and he reached for a large bundle of official documents, in which he became speedily absorbed.
For an hour, he sat intent on his correspondence, glancing through papers, and making pencil notes; suddenly there was a sound of steps, and talking, he heard the door open, and a young and cheerful voice saying:
"All right, thanks, give Colonel Tallboys my card."
It was Geoffrey. He sprang to his feet, tore off his glasses, and turned to receive him.
"Hullo, Geoff!" shaking him warmly by the hand, "I'm glad to see you. Do you know, I only got your letter an hour ago—and so you have come out!"
"Yes, here I am."
Colonel Tallboys surveyed his kinsman with critical appraisement—in his opinion, appearance ranked high. A well-bred, well set-up young fellow, with the clearcut Mallender nose, and his mother's dark eyes. Yes. An excellent specimen of the average good-looking Englishman!
"I've not seen you for years. How long ago is it?"
"Not since you came down to Eton on the 4th of June, and gave me a jolly good tip."
"Did I?—ha! ha! You have a long memory. Well, where are you staying ? Or did you come straight from the station?"
"No; I arrived last night. I'm at a pot-house that calls itself 'Hotel St. George,' and reeks of rancid cocoanut oil. My driver introduced me."
"Good Lord, it's in Blacktown! I beg its pardon—Georgetown! Of course, you come to us at once. I'll send over a fellow to pack, and bring your kit. We are
