Mr. Merrett looked the man very straight in the face; as if he suspected him of an intention to be humorous.

'Not so much "your lordship" about it, if you please. Is it the old complaint? Try a bushel of pills before breakfast and a scuttleful at lunch. A young man with a pair of legs like yours ought to have more sense. He did really. For goodness gracious sake don't be a fool just because you look it. Try to behave as if you'd left your face at home. Did you hear me ask if the Marquis of Twickenham is at home, or are you deaf both back and front?'

The footman plainly did not know what to make of the position.

'Your lordship----'

Mr. Merrett sprang up the steps. 'Look here, you perambulating cauliflower, if you give me any more of "your lordship" I'll dot you upon the frontispiece. Are you the only fool about the place? Or isn't there any one who can give a civil answer to a civil question?'

Another footman advanced. Behind him the venerable Mr. Gayer. Both stared with unmistakable surprise at Mr. Merrett. He returned them stare for stare.

'Well? The charge for this entertainment is generally one shilling, but really good-looking men are admitted free. Do you both of you want a pass, upon your faces?'

He put his hand up to his mouth, and bawled:

'Is the Marquis of Twickenham at home? Sorry I didn't bring a foghorn out with me, but perhaps that's loud enough for somebody to hear.'

'What name?'

'What's yours?'

'My name is Gayer.'

'Mine's Merrett; James Merrett, Esquire. Glad to meet you. We're getting on nicely, Mr. Gayer, you and I. It's always a privilege to meet a man who's got sense, even if you can't think where he keeps it. Might I ask you if the Marquis of Twickenham is at home? My top notes are a little rusty; I didn't know I should have had to do so much shouting, or I'd have had them oiled before I came.'

'His lordship is engaged. He gave special instructions that he was not to be disturbed.'

'Oh, he did, did he? Then his instructions are going to be disturbed--and so I tell you. I'm going to see his lordship right now. There's some game going on here which it's my intention to see the bottom of. That fairy-like flower of the flock with the lily-white hair has kept calling me his "lordship" more than I quite care for; so I'm going to see what his lordship's like, for a lord's the very last thing I wish to be. Now, Fitz, I'm going to call on the Marquis. You come along and see me through.'

Mr. Gayer had placed himself in Mr. Merrett's way.

'Excuse me, sir!'

'Excuse me, my dear Mr. Gayer, but would you mind removing yourself to a more convenient distance, unless you wish me to demonstrate that my fighting weight is greater than you might think?'

On a sudden Mr. Merrett was across the hall, before Mr. Gayer was prepared for him to make a move. Throwing open a door he looked into the room which it disclosed.

'Hollo!' he exclaimed, 'what have we here?'

Two persons were within. One, a priest of the Roman Catholic Church, was taking his ease in an armchair, the other was kneeling in front of him with his hands held up to his face. At the sound of the opening door this person withdrew his hands, and turned. It was the Marquis of Twickenham.

Mr. Merrett stared at him with every appearance of the most profound amazement. He plucked off his hat.

'I--I--I'm sure I beg pardon, but are you the Marquis of Twickenham?'

'I am.'

'D--d--d--does your lordship know how much you are like me?'

The man on his knees was still. The priest stood up; a fine, steady figure; in striking contrast to the abject creature at his feet. He regarded Mr. Merrett with twinkling eyes.

'There certainly is a resemblance. Is it to that fact that we are indebted for the pleasure of your presence, unannounced?'

'Well, I was told that there was a gentleman here who was so like me that father got taking me for him; and as this was promising to become inconvenient, I thought I'd come and see.'

'And having seen?'

'I beg your pardon for having intruded, and hope I'll be excused.'

'Your name?'

'Merrett--James Merrett. And yours?'

'I am Father Anthony Coppard. Now that I regard you more attentively, I perceive that the resemblance is greater than I at first realised. You interest me, Mr. Merrett. May I ask you to favour me with your address, so that, perhaps, I may have the pleasure of seeing you again.'

'If you'll let me have yours, I'll come and call on you.'

'You prefer it that way? Well, as you please. I am content. Here is my card, Mr. Merrett. Let me know when you are coming; and--be sure you come.'

Father Anthony Coppard bestowed on Mr. Merrett, with his card, a glance which was full of meaning.

As the two visitors were going down the steps, Mr. Merrett put up his hand to smooth his chin. He appeared to be lost in a maze of wonder.

'Well, this beats anything I've ever heard of. If I hadn't seen him with my own eyes I wouldn't have believed it--that two men could be so alike. Why, if I hadn't seen him in a looking-glass I might have mistaken him for me.'

'I'm sure I apologise, Mr. Babbacombe, if I seem to have doubted anything you may have said, but as you observed, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Nobody could.'

'I'm not surprised that my wife mistook that man for me; and although it seems to be against nature, upon my word I'm not surprised.'

'It would have been surprising if she hadn't.'

'You've hit it--it would. Mr. FitzHoward, you're a level-headed man, and always have been, so that when you talked to me in the way you did do, it was beyond me altogether. But now I understand what you were driving at; and I find I have to thank you for affording me an opportunity to throw light upon a matter which, had it remained wrapped in mystery, might have been against me all my life--and poisoned it, FitzHoward--poisoned it.'

'I'm sure, Mr. Babbacombe, you're welcome to anything I may have done, and it's very handsome of you to put it in that way.'

'Don't mention it, Fitz, my dear old boy; don't mention it.'

Putting out his hand, Mr. Merrett squeezed Mr. FitzHoward's arm in a way which was eloquent of what he felt. Presently he added another remark:

'I wonder what he was saying to that priest?'

For the first time, perhaps, he spoke the truth. He really did wonder. The twinkle which had been in the father's eyes he did not understand.