"Done!" said he again.

They shook hands to seal the bargain and drank another glass of old
brandy. At that moment, a servant, entering, took the host aside.

"Please excuse me a moment," said he, and went with the servant out of
the room.

Aristide, left alone, lighted another of his kind host's fat cigars
and threw himself into a great leathern arm-chair by the fire, and
surrendered himself deliciously to the soothing charm of the moment. Now
and then he laughed, finding a certain comicality in his position. And
what a charming father-in-law, this kind Mr. Smith!

His cheerful reflections were soon disturbed by the sudden irruption of
his host and a grizzled, elderly, foxy-faced gentleman with a white
moustache, wearing the ribbon of the Legion of Honour in the buttonhole
of his overcoat.

"Here, you!" cried the kind Mr. Smith, striding up to Aristide, with a
very red face. "Will you have the kindness to tell me who the devil you
are?"

Aristide rose, and, putting his hands behind the tails of his
frock-coat, stood smiling radiantly on the hearthrug. A wit much less
alert than my irresponsible friend's would have instantly appreciated
the fact that the real Simon Pure had arrived on the scene.

"I, my dear friend," said he, "am the Baron de Je ne Sais Plus."

"You're a confounded impostor," spluttered Mr. Smith.

"And this gentleman here to whom I have not had the pleasure of being
introduced?" asked Aristide, blandly.

"I am M. Poiron, monsieur, the agent of Messrs. Brauneberger and
Compagnie, art dealers, of the Rue Notre Dame des Petits Champs of
Paris," said the new-comer, with an air of defiance.

"Ah, I thought you were the Baron," said Aristide.

"There's no blooming Baron at all about it!" screamed Mr. Smith. "Are
you Poiron, or is he?"

"I would not have a name like Poiron for anything in the world," said
Aristide. "My name is Aristide Pujol, soldier of fortune, at your
service."

"How the blazes did you get here?"

"Your servant asked me if I was a French gentleman from Manchester. I
was. He said that Mr. Smith had sent his carriage for me. I thought it
hospitable of the kind Mr. Smith. I entered the carriage--_et voila!_"

"Then clear out of here this very minute," said Mr. Smith, reaching
forward his hand to the bell-push.

Aristide checked his impulsive action.

"Pardon me, dear host," said he. "It is raining dogs and cats outside. I
am very comfortable in your luxurious home. I am