suggested a man whose aim in life it was to copy, as nearly as possible, the accepted portrait of the Bard of Avon.
"It is wonderful," I said. "Nobody would ever recognise me. I feel a theatrical agent all over."
"Remember you are Fairlight Longsman, the author of several farces, and my secretary. Whatever you do, don't forget that. Now we must be going. Come along."
We left the house unnoticed, and, having hailed a hansom, were driven to the carriage builder's yard at Vauxhall. Walworth had evidently written preparing him for our visit, for, early as it was, we found him waiting to receive us.
"Zir," began Mr. Maximillien Stragaus, in broken English, as soon as he had descended from the cab. "Is it you dot are Mr. Ebridge?"
"That is my name, sir," said the coachbuilder. "And you are Mr, Stragaus, I presume."
"Dot is my name. Dis shentleman is my secretary, Mr. Fairlide Longsman. Now, you know, an' so we can our business begin to dalk!"
"Perhaps you will be good enough, gentlemen, to step into my office first. We shall be more private there?"
We followed him into the room he mentioned, and took possession of the chairs he offered us.
"Now, Mr. Stragaus, in what way can I be of service to you?" he asked, seating himself as he spoke at his desk.
"Zir! My segratary sprechens the Anglaish better nor me, he vill dell you."
