kes, Mr. Ruffin!"

"Joke? Do you want me to show you how much of a joke it is by giving
you in charge here and now for kidnapping my housekeeper, Mary Bride?"
said the Honourable John Ruffin coldly.

Mr. Wilkinson's expression grew yet more puzzled and doubtful, and he
said:

"Mary Bride? Who is Mary Bride?"

"Now what's the good of a subterfuge of this kind when you're holding
her by the hand, Wilkinson? You should keep such tricks for maiden
ladies!" cried the Honourable John Ruffin with a fine show of
indignation.

"This is Lady Marion Ricksborough!" cried Wilkinson; but his tone
lacked conviction.

"It isn't. It's my housekeeper, Mary Bride. I wonder that a man of
your knowledge of the world did not see at once that you were
kidnapping the wrong person," said the Honourable John Ruffin; and
_his_ tone was full of conviction.

"I'm not Lady Marion, and I never said I was. It was you who said so.
I am Mr. Ruffin's housekeeper, Mary Bride," said Pollyooly very firmly.

"B-b-b-but I've been c-c-c-calling her Lady Marion all the t-t-t-time,
and she never p-p-p-protested once!" cried Mr. Wilkinson, gazing wildly
at Pollyooly.

"Then all I can say is, you must have frightened the life out of her,"
said the Honourable John Ruffin indignantly. "And it will look
bad--devilish bad--a man of your age kidnapping a child of twelve and
frightening her to such an extent that she was afraid to tell you who
she really was. Look here, am I to give you in charge here and now,
and thresh the matter out in a police court? That will please
Osterley!"

"Hold on a bit--hold on a bit," said Mr. Wilkinson faintly. "You're
really not joking?"

"Certainly not," said the Honourable John Ruffin.

"Let's go into a waiting-room and talk it over quietly. We don't want
to make any silly mistakes," said Mr. Wilkinson yet more faintly.

"I should think you didn't! You've made enough already," said the
Honourable John Ruffin frankly. "But you'd better come along to my
chambers. I've got Mary Bride's little brother there and a woman who
has known her all her life. If you can't take my word for it, she'll
convince you all right."

Mr. Wilkinson was very limp in the taxicab: he perceived that he had
allowed his enthusiasm to carry him away with the result that he had
been hopelessly duped. It was indeed mortifying, the more mortifying
that he could not blame any one but himself--himself and nature. The
more carefully he