rough's discarded garments.

"No you don't!" cried that gentleman, hastily recovering his
possessions. "Haven't you got any clothes in that bag of yours, Spotts?"

"Well, I _have_ got a costume, Bishop, and that's a fact," replied the
actor; "but it's hardly in his line, I should think."

"What is it?" asked the Englishman. "You seem about of a size."

"It's a Quaker outfit. I used it in a curtain-raiser we were playing."

"That would do very well," said Cecil, "if it isn't too pronounced."

"Oh, it's tame enough," replied the actor, who exercised a restraint in
his art for which those who met him casually did not give him credit.
Indeed, among the many admirable qualities which led people to predict a
brilliant future for Spotts was the fact that he never overdid anything.

"Huh!" grunted the tramp, "I dunno but what I'd as lieve sport a shovel
hat as the suit of bedticking they give yer up the river. I used to
work round Philidelphy some, and I guess I could do the lingo."

"Give them to him," said Banborough. "I'll make it good to you."

"Well, take them, then," replied Spotts regretfully, handing their
unwelcome companion the outfit which he produced from his bag, adding as
he pointed to the woods: "Get in there and change quickly. We ought to
be moving."

The tramp made one step towards the underbrush, and then, pausing
doubtfully, said:

"You don't happen to have a razor and a bit of looking-glass about yer,
do yer? I see there's a brook here, and there ain't nothin' Quakery
about my beard."

The actor's face was a study.

"I'm afraid there's no escape from it, old man," remarked Cecil. "If
you've your shaving materials with you, let him have them."

"There they are. You needn't trouble to return them."

Their recipient grinned appreciatively, and as the last rustle of his
retirement into privacy died away, Miss Arminster turned to Banborough
and demanded:

"Now tell me what I was arrested for, why you two ran away with me, and
where I'm being taken."

"I can answer the first of those questions," broke in Spotts. "You're a
Spanish sympathiser and a political spy."

"I'm nothing of the sort, as you know very well!" she replied, colouring
violently. "I'm the leading lady of the A. B. C. Company."

"Of course _we_ know it," returned the actor; "but the police have
chosen to take a different view of the matter."

"Why is he chaffing me like this?" she said, appealing to Cecil.

"I'm afraid it'