THE MASTER SPIRIT BY SIR WILLIAM MAGNAY

A Short distance up Park Lane Herriard dismissed the cab and walked on. On his left, under a crescent moon, the Park lay Slumbering still, and, save for a few nocturnal prowlers, lifeless: in vivid contrast to the still busy, if languid, roll of traffic on the other Side of its railings. Herriard, walking briskly, turned up Hert ford Street, and presently taking a little used thorough fare, made his way deep into the intricacies of Mayfair, that curious maze of mansions and slums where Peers live next door to slop-shops, and the chorus from a footmans free-and-easy at the public-house across the street may keep awake a dowager countess or weave melody into ducal dreams.