ham yesterday afternoon with a most extraordinary story. His lordship tells me that he learned from your talk with him yesterday afternoon that you are pretty well acquainted, you and Mr. Viner, with his family history, so I'll go straight to the point. What do you think Methley and Woodlesford came to tell him? You'd never guess!"
"I won't try!" answered Mr. Pawle. "What, then?"
Mr. Carless smiled grimly.
"That the long-lost Lord Marketstoke was alive and in England!" he said. "Here, in fact, in London!"
Mr. Pawle smiled too. But his smile was not grim—it was, rather, the smile of a man who hears what he has been expecting to hear.
"I thought it would be something of that sort!" he exclaimed. "Aye, I fancied that would be the game!"
"You think it a game?" suggested Mr. Carless.
"And a highly dangerous one—as somebody will find out," responded Mr. Pawle. "But—what did these fellows really say!"
"His lordship will correct me if I miss anything pertinent," answered Mr. Carless with a glance at his client. "They said this—that they had been called upon by a gentleman now staying at one of the private residential hotels in Lancaster Gate, who was desirous of legal assistance in an important matter and had been recommended to them by a fellow-boarder at the hotel. He then told them that though he was now passing under the name of Cave—"
"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Pawle, with a snort which
