of more than one currency. The club was in a very satisfactory position. It had only thirty-two members, but the subscription was high and the expenses were small.

At last came the important business. Sir John opened the candidates’ book and spoke with a voice of deliberate impartiality:

“Gentlemen, we have a candidate up for election. He is a native of this island, known to us all, I think, as King Smith. I see that he is described here as John Smith, trader and chief of Faloo. He is proposed by Mr Page and seconded by the Rev. Cyril Mast. He is supported by Mr Bassett, Mr Mandelbaum, Mr Duncombe, Mr Clarence Mills, and Lord Charles Baringstoke—under ordinary circumstances, I should say a strong list. Before proceeding to discussion I will ask our secretary to read the letters of the proposer and the seconder.”

The letters were unusually long and apologetic, but this was the first time that a native had been proposed for membership of the Exiles’ Club.

Mr Page, in his letter, pointed out that this was no ordinary native. He was of the blood royal, and was recognised by all the natives as chief or King of Faloo. It was to be remembered that certainly in the old days and in a neighbouring group of the islands white men had not thought it beneath their dignity to take positions—and even subordinate positions—at the court of native kings and queens.

Dr Soames Pryce gave a short contemptuous laugh; Mr Bassett glared at him out of mean eyes and continued the letter.

Mr Page pointed out further that Smith had shown a readiness to absorb European ideas which was without parallel in the case of a native. His business, in which a syndicate of members of the club were financially interested, was solid and progressive. He had shown enterprise and talent for organisation. He spoke French well and English to perfection. He had been of great assistance to the white men on the island. “And of his wide and generous hospitality most of us have had pleasant experience.”

“Good letter,” commented the doctor, briefly.

The letter of the Rev. Cyril Mast repeated much that Mr Page had said, but contained some additional items of information. As regards the name of John Smith, Smith was merely the Anglicised form of its owner’s native name.

The doctor’s laugh was perhaps excusable. The native name was of four syllables, began with “m,” ended with “oo,” and had a “k” in it. The laugh was repeated when the Rev. Cyril Mast asserted that Smith had received the name John upon baptism into the Church of England, performed during boyhood when on a visit to another island.

“Name,” said the doctor.

“Order,” said Sir John. “We can discuss the letter afterwards.”

“I presume,” said Mr Bassett, savagely, “that Dr Pryce does not venture to question the veracity of a member of the club.”

“Rot,” said the doctor.

“Order, order,” said Sir John. “Read on, please, Mr Bassett.”

He read on. The Rev. Cyril Mast pointed out that King Smith’s attitude in religious matters was one of the broadest toleration, as exemplified by the fact that he permitted the French Catholic mission on his island. He had lessened the superstitious observances of the natives, had deported the priests, and now held solely in his own person the important power of “taboo.” In view of labour difficulties and other difficulties with the natives it was imperatively necessary to conciliate the possessor of this power. It was hardly too much to say that their existence depended upon it. It would be necessary to elect King Smith, “even if he were not the genial, open-handed sportsman whom we all know him to be.”

There was a moment’s silence. It was for the President to speak first. Sir John spoke with ease and fluency. He had addressed many meetings, and soothed for the time many angry shareholders.

“Well, gentlemen,” said Sir John, “Mr Smith comes before you under very good auspices. He is seconded by one member of the committee and underwritten by another. Among his supporters we have noted the names of Lord Charles Baringstoke and—er—others. But it must be remarked that his seconder is not here this morning to speak for him. Why is he not here?”

“He was so very drunk last night,” said Dr Soames Pryce. There was not the least shade of moral accusation in his voice; it was a plain statement of a cause having a certain effect.

“Nonsense!” snapped Mr Bassett.

“I assure you, my diagnosis is correct.”

“Gentlemen!” said Sir John, in mild protest. Both men apologised to the President for the interruption. He continued:

“From whatever cause it arises it is at least unfortunate that Mr Mast is not here; there are questions that I should have felt it my duty, unpleasant though it might be, to put to him. However, we will leave him and consider the candidature of Mr Smith.”

Here Sir John paused to light a cigar and refresh himself from the glass before him.

“Now, gentlemen, I think if I may claim any virtue at all it is the virtue of foresight. When the circumstances arose which made it advisable for me to leave England, I had already foreseen those circumstances and I knew that Faloo was the place. From its want of an accessible harbour, its small size, and its position out of the usual line of trading and other vessels, and also perhaps from a pardonable ignorance, Faloo has been omitted by statesmen and their advisers from treaties innumerable. It has independence on sufferance. Any European power that claimed Faloo would be met by a counter-claim from another power, and at present it is considered too obscure and insignificant for diplomacy, or for sterner methods of arbitration. Briefly, it is not worth fighting about. But I know that you will agree with me that it is just what we require. Life is soft and easy, and the climate is always summer. Nature has showered her gifts upon this island—gorgeous flowers and luscious fruits, the graceful and useful palm, the orange trees in the shade of which we sit.”

“Pardon the correction,” said Dr Soames Pryce. “The orange trees were brought by Smith’s grandfather from Tahiti, and they were not indigenous even there.”

“Thank you, Dr Pryce. At least I may say that this kindly and prolific soil has, in the case of the orange trees as in our own case, welcomed the stranger. The natives are friendly—except in some cases which I can explain—and though their natural laziness makes it difficult to find useful and trustworthy servants, we have managed to get along so far by a temperate firmness on our part. For such hostility as exists I regret to say that certain members of this club have only themselves to thank, and I may add in confidence that Mr Mast is one of the worst offenders. This—er—philandering with the wives and daughters of natives is a thing that must definitely be stopped or there will be awful trouble.”

Sir John paused for another sip, and surveyed his companions. Dr Soames Pryce looked straight down his nose; Mr Bassett toyed innocently with a pen-holder.

“Well, gentlemen, to make a long story short, insignificant little Faloo precisely suits me. Personally, I ask nothing better than that I may live the rest of my life here, enjoying—if you find some worthier President—”

“No, no,” said the other two men.

“Well, enjoying at least my membership of the Exiles’ Club. Now I do not want to break a tacit understanding by referring to the past history of any of us. Some may