not pull up. Gammon followed for thirty yards.
Again the man hailed a cab, and this time successfully. Just as he was
about to step into the vehicle Gammon stood beside him.

"How do you do, Mr. Clover?"

CHAPTER XVII

POLLY SHOWS WEAKNESS

It was spoken with quiet confidence. Gammon smiled as he looked
steadily into the pale, thin face, which at once grew mottled with a
disturbance of the blood.

"You are making a mistake, sir," replied an indistinct voice, with an
effort at dignity.

"Oh, no, not a bit of it. Not now I've heard you speak, Mr. Clover."

"I don't understand you, sir," sounded more clearly, the pallid visage
now a muddy red and the eyes moist. "That is not my name. Be so good as
to go your way."

"Certainly. I just wanted to make sure, that's all. No fuss. Good
morning, Mr. Clover."

Gammon drew back. He heard the order "Charing Cross," and the cab drew
away.

After a moment or two of irresolution Gammon walked hurriedly back to
the nearest public-house, where he called for a glass of bitter and the
Directory. With the former he slaked a decided dryness of the throat,
the latter he searched eagerly in the section "Court." There it was!
"Polperro, Lord, 16, Lowndes Mansions, Sloane Street, S.W. Junior
Ramblers' Club. Trefoyle, Liskeard, Cornwall."

By jorrocks!

With thoughts tuned to anything but the oil and colour business he
returned to Quodlings' and had his interview with the head of the firm.
Mr. Quodling, senior, was a gruff, heavy-featured man, decidedly of
coarse fibre; when moved he swore with gusto, and it did not take much
to put him out. At present he was in an irritable mood, and, very
unlike his habit, gave scant attention to the affair of which Gammon
spoke. It would not have improved his temper had he known that the town
traveller was amusing himself with the reflection that there was no
trace of personal resemblance between him and his brother Francis, who,
on the other hand, bore a very strong likeness indeed to--Lord Polperro.

As soon as he could get away Gammon dispatched a telegram. It was to
Miss Sparkes, whom he requested to meet him at the theatre door that
night when she left. "Something very important to tell you."

This was done on a tell-tale impulse; it showed in what direction his
thoughts and mind most readily turned just now. Thinking it over in the
hours that followed he doubted whether, after all, he would tell Polly
exactly what had happened;