Part 66 (1/2)

'Mary, when I was here last you spoke of somebody who you seemed to think had been masquerading as me. Fitz, your remarks apparently point in the same direction. What does this person call himself?'

'He calls himself the Marquis of Twickenham--when he's not James Merrett.'

'Is that meant to be funny? Because, if so, take my advice, and don't try to be humorous in a wrong key. Where does he live?'

'His address is Twickenham House, St. James's Square--when it's not Little Olive Street.'

'More humour? Pretty soon I'll give you leave to get in all the laughter you have handy. You come right away along with yours truly, and we'll interview the gentleman who's pretending to be me.'

'He's not pretending to be you; he's pretending that he isn't you.'

'That so? We'll investigate his pretensions anyhow. You just come right along.'

Mr. FitzHoward stared.

'What new caper's this?'

'It's a caper that's going to show you just where the laugh comes in, if you're ready.'

'James, you're not going to leave us?'

'You have tea upon that table at five o'clock; a good tea, mind; and I'll be back for it; back for good. There seems to be some little game going on over in St. James's Square which I'm going to take a hand at.

You remember my telling you about a man Jones saw who might have sat for me? Looks as if he had come to life again, and was making trouble.

Now trouble of that kind is a thing I don't mean to have come into the life which, from this time forward, you and I are going to live together. So I'm going along with Fitz till tea-time to see that it don't.'

As the two men went side by side along the pavement, Mr. FitzHoward kept glancing at his companion as if he found something about him which was not only strange but altogether beyond his comprehension.

Presently he asked a question.

'Well! What's the game now?'

'The game?' Mr. Merrett regarded the other with a glance of innocent inquiry. 'That's what I'm after; that's what I'm going to find out--what the game is.'

They went some little distance before Mr. FitzHoward ventured on another remark.

'You have a face!'

'I hope so. I hope you have one too--even if it's not such an ornament as mine.'

'Ornament!'

Mr. FitzHoward emitted a sigh which might have been intended to mark the interjection. Mr. Merrett hailed a pa.s.sing cab.

'Drive us to Twickenham House, St. James's Square. Now, Fitz, in you jump.'

That gentleman appeared to hesitate:

'Look here. I don't know what your game is, you're beyond me altogether, but don't you go kicking me out when we get there.'