or--

"_Mon ami_! Oh! I am glad to see you, my good friend. Friend of my
_pauvre pere_!--friend of my youth! It is you. Ah, Monsieur!" added
he, addressing Roger, "for your friend's sake you are welcome.
_Entrez_!"

"Be quiet now, Gustav," said the tutor. "Bring us come coffee in the
coffee-room, if you can get it made, and light a fire in the bedroom.
We will talk in the morning."

Gustav gesticulated delighted acquiescence in any demand his hero made,
and ushered them into the coffee-room.

"What a queer fellow!" said Roger when he had vanished in search of the
coffee.

"Queer but good-hearted fellow is Gustav," said the tutor. "I have
known him a long time; to-morrow I'll tell you-- Hullo!"

There was but a single candle in the room, and by its dim light, and
that of the half-expired fire, they had not at first been able to see
that they were not the sole occupants of the apartment. On the sofa lay
curled the figure of a man breathing heavily, and, to judge by the
spirit-bottle and glasses on the table at his hand, expiating a carouse
by a disturbed and feverished slumber.

The tutor raised the candle so that the light fell more clearly on the
sleeper. Something in the figure had struck him. The man lay with his
face turned towards them. He was stylishly though cheaply dressed. His
age may have been forty, and his features were half obscured by a
profuse and unkempt sandy beard. This was not what had struck the
tutor. In his frequent turnings and tossings the sleeper had contrived
to betray the fact that his hirsute appearance was due not to nature but
to art. A wire hook had been displaced from the ear, leaving one side
of the wig tilted so as to disclose underneath the smooth cheek of a
clean-shaven man.

The examination was still in process when Gustav re-entered the room.
The clatter with which he put down the cups on the table, aided by the
glare of the candle and the tutor's sharp ejaculation, wakened the
sleeper with a start. He was sober enough as he raised his head sharply
and sprang to his feet. In doing this the treacherous wig slipped still
farther. Before he could raise his hand to replace it Mr Armstrong had
stepped forward and torn the mask from his face, disclosing the livid
countenance of Mr Robert Ratman!

The surprise on either side was at first beyond reach of words. The
miscreant stood staring in a dazed way, first at Armstrong, then at
Roger, then at Gustav, who, b