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speeches of a welcoming sort, the tail end of the series of opening addresses, which had occupied the conference so far, but after lunch the principal delegates went into closed session and Stanley was left outside, filling in time chatting to one of the secretaries of the Burmese delegation, a young man who, it turned out, had been to a much better-known public school than Stanley’s. By five o’clock the conference, a little nearer to agreeing on what they should talk about, adjourned, and Stanley went home to change. The feeling that he had been there simply to make the number up had by now grown into a firm conviction . Some people would have been depressed by this, or felt outraged in their dignity, but in Stanley’s case it greatly relieved his mind, and he set out in good heart for Mr Mahommed’s party.
    *
    At the Agyppian Embassy in Kensington, excited persons of all colours were busy making an unusually confused din. Some, whose creeds forbade alcohol, seemed to be getting equally bright-eyed on tomato-juice. A few of the guests were in full evening dress with decorations though most were in what Stanley correctly took to be their normal clothes.
    A genial and broad-smiling Mr Mahommed greeted him.
    “Ah, Mr Windrush. It is most enjoyable to see you. You are well once more?”
    “Oh, I feel very well,” said Stanley. “I hear you enjoyed your stay at Sunnyglades?”
    “Ah yes. I am very interested in the Body, you know.”
    “Is that what the people they call Mahommed’s Nature Boys are interested in?”
    “Ah, you keep in touch, I see, Mr Windrush. Yes indeed, they are a movement I started to keep my country fit, you know. You are perhaps in the Middle East Department , then?”
    “Oh no. I do Japanese shirts usually but I saw a thing the other night about your movement. Actually I rang the Minister of State about it, but it wasn’t important, apparently.”
    “Really? Do take another drink. Of course Mr Brimpton is very overworked now with this Conference, like us all.”
    “Oh yes. He looked pretty tired this afternoon, but I heard him say he’d feel much better after he’d seen Mr Emmanuel.”
    “The Solomonian delegate? Now that’s very interesting. I hadn’t heard of a meeting. I wonder what about.”
    “Oh, I’ve no idea. He just said something about getting it all tied up. Will you be in England long?”
    “It depends, Mr Windrush, it depends. Now perhaps you would like to talk to some of the Japanese delegation?”
    “No, no, please,” said Stanley. “Not off duty.”
    Mr Mahommed clapped him heartily on the shoulder.
    “Jolly good!” he cried, laughing resoundingly. “Not off duty. I know what you mean. Well, I have all Asia here for you to choose from. Perhaps you know Billy? He’s from Burma. Billy!”
    The Etonian Burmese disengaged himself and came over.
    *
    “You heard that?” said Mr Mahommed furiously, when Stanley had moved off. “Seeing Emmanuel, eh? Getting it all tied up beforehand, are they?”
    “Some swindle is doubtless being prepared,” said his PA. “Emmanuel wants them to turn the blind eye, of course. They call it the spirit of Nelson. Collusion, of course.”
    “Very true. But they are a nation of shopkeepers too. We must see how much they will sell us. ”
    *
    Stanley, blissfully unaware of having revealed anything,resumed his afternoon’s chat with the Burmese. He was quite enjoying being a representative of his country.
    “Well, my dear fellow,” said the Burmese, “how are you enjoying our peculiar Oriental ways?”
    “Oh, I don’t think they’re peculiar at all,” said Stanley. “Only for some reason, I can’t remember why, I’d been half expecting some sort of cabaret.”
    “Cabaret? What on earth put that in your head? Did you expect those Balinese chaps would give you a bit of a dance? You mustn’t try to undermine our dignity, Mr Windrush.”
    A large perfumed Sikh, clasping a tomato-juice, leaned closer to take this in. Two tiny