er.

He could not afford to make enemies just then, and objectionable as the
man was, his astuteness made him a valuable ally; he determined, without
considering the risk of making such a confident, to tell him all and ask
his advice and help.

"Don't you know me, Paradine?"

"I don't think I have the privilege--you're one of Miss Barbara's
numerous young friends, I suppose? and yet, now I look at you, you
don't seem to be exactly got up for an evening party; there's something
in your voice, too, I ought to know."

"You ought," said Paul, with a gulp. "My name is Paul Bultitude!"

"To be sure!" cried Marmaduke. "By Jove, then, you're my young nephew,
don't you know; I'm your long-lost uncle, my boy, I am indeed (I'll
excuse you from coming to my arms, however; I never was good at family
embraces). But, I say, you little rascal, you've never been asked to
these festivities, you ought to be miles away, fast asleep in your bed
at school. What in the name of wonder are you doing here?"

"I've--left school," said Paul.

"So I perceive. Sulky because they left you out of all this, eh? Thought
you'd turn up in the middle of the banquet, like the spectre
bridegroom--'the worms they crawled in, and the worms they crawled out,'
eh? Well, I like your pluck, but, ahem--I'm afraid you'll find they've
rather an unpleasant way of laying your kind of apparitions."

"Never mind about that," said Paul hurriedly; "I have something I must
tell you--I've no time to lose. I'm a desperate man!"

"You are," Paradine assented with a loud laugh, "oh, you are indeed! 'a
desperate man.' Capital! a stern chase, eh? the schoolmaster close
behind with the birch! It's quite exciting, you know, but, seriously,
I'm very much afraid you'll catch it!"

"If," began Mr. Bultitude in great embarrassment, "if I was to tell you
that I was not myself at all--but somebody else, a--in fact, an entirely
different person from what I seem to you to be--I suppose you would
laugh?"

"I beg your pardon," said his brother-in-law politely, "I don't think I
quite catch the idea."

"When I assure you now, solemnly, as I stand here before you, that I am
not the miserable boy whose form I am condemned to--to wear, you'll say
it is incredible?"

"Not at all--by no means, I quite believe you. Only (really it's a mere
detail), but I should rather like to know, if you're not that particular
boy, what other boy you may happen to be. You'll forgive my curiosity."