ied, determined manner at the succeeding _etages_ as they
slipped downward. At the fourth floor they disembarked, and Brock led
the way to his rooms, overlooking the inner court. Once inside, with the
door closed, he turned upon the Englishman.

"Now, what's up, Rox? Are you in trouble?" he demanded.

"Are we quite alone?" Medcroft glanced significantly at the transom and
the half-closed bathroom door. With a laugh, Brock led him into the
bathroom and out, and then closed the transom.

"You're darned mysterious," he said, pointing to a chair near the
window. Medcroft drew another close up and seated himself.

"Brock," he said, lowering his voice and leaning forward impressively,
"I want you to go to Vienna in my place." Brock stared hard. "You are a
godsend, old man. You're just in time to do me the greatest of favours.
It's utterly impossible for me to go to Vienna as I had planned, and yet
it is equally unwise for me to give up the project. You see, I've just
got to be in London and Vienna at the same time."

"It will require something more than a stretch of the imagination to do
that, old man. But I'm game, and my plans are such that they can be
changed readily to oblige a friend. I shan't mind the trip in the least
and I'll be only too happy to help you out! 'Gad, I thought by your
manner that you were in some frightful difficulty. Have a cigaret."

"By Jove, Brock, you're a brick," cried Medcroft, shaking the other's
hand vigorously. At the same time his face expressed considerable
uncertainty and no little doubt as to the further welfare of his as yet
partially divulged proposition.

"It's easy to be a brick, my boy, if it involves no more than the
changing of a single letter in one's name. I'd like to attend the
convention, anyway," said Brock amiably.

"Well, you see, Brock," said Medcroft lamely, "I fear you don't quite
appreciate the situation. I want you to pose as Roxbury Medcroft."

"You--What do you mean?"

"I thought you'd find that a facer. That's just it: you are to go to
Vienna as Roxbury Medcroft, not as yourself. Ha, ha! Ripping, eh?"

"'Pon my soul, Rox, you are not in earnest?"

"Never more so."

"But, my dear fellow--"

"You won't do it? That's what your tone means," in despair.

"It isn't that, and you know it. I've got nothing to lose. It's you that
will have to suffer. You're known all over Europe. What will be said
when the trick is discovered? 'Gad, man!"

"Then you will go