one of the men into
his own basket, and bounding towards the distinguished foreign Count,
called to him clamorously: "Come on, MacIan, the hunt is up again."

The prompt reply of Count Gregory was to pull off his large yellow
whiskers and scatter them on the breeze with an air of considerable
relief. Then he joined the flight of Turnbull, and even as he did so,
with one wrench of his powerful hands rent and split the strange, thick
stick that he carried. Inside it was a naked old-fashioned rapier. The
two got a good start up the road before the whole town was awakened
behind them; and half-way up it a similar transformation was seen to
take place in Mr. Turnbull's singular umbrella.

The two had a long race for the harbour; but the English police were
heavy and the French inhabitants were indifferent. In any case, they got
used to the notion of the road being clear; and just as they had come
to the cliffs MacIan banged into another gentleman with unmistakable
surprise. How he knew he was another gentleman merely by banging into
him, must remain a mystery. MacIan was a very poor and very sober
Scotch gentleman. The other was a very drunk and very wealthy English
gentleman. But there was something in the staggered and openly
embarrassed apologies that made them understand each other as readily
and as quickly and as much as two men talking French in the middle of
China. The nearest expression of the type is that it either hits or
apologizes; and in this case both apologized.

"You seem to be in a hurry," said the unknown Englishman, falling back
a step or two in order to laugh with an unnatural heartiness. "What's
it all about, eh?" Then before MacIan could get past his sprawling and
staggering figure he ran forward again and said with a sort of shouting
and ear-shattering whisper: "I say, my name is Wilkinson. _You_
know--Wilkinson's Entire was my grandfather. Can't drink beer myself.
Liver." And he shook his head with extraordinary sagacity.

"We really are in a hurry, as you say," said MacIan, summoning a
sufficiently pleasant smile, "so if you will let us pass----"

"I'll tell you what, you fellows," said the sprawling gentleman,
confidentially, while Evan's agonized ears heard behind him the first
paces of the pursuit, "if you really are, as you say, in a hurry, I know
what it is to be in a hurry--Lord, what a hurry I was in when we all
came out of Cartwright's rooms--if you really are in a hurry"--and he
seemed