arty supported the tottering steps of Lord Restalrig, and they led him
to the gate.

'Tell the porter to call my brougham,' said Merton to Dr. Fogarty.

The brougham was called and came to the gate, evading a coal-cart which
was about to enter the lane. Merton aided the marquis to enter, and said
'Home.' A few rough fellows, who were loitering in the lane, looked
curiously on. In half an hour the marquis, his gag and the bandage round
his eyes removed, was sitting in Trevor's smoking-room, attended to by
Miss Trevor.

It is probably needless to describe the simple and obvious process
(rather like that of the Man, the Goose, and the Fox) by which Mrs.
Lumley, with her portmanteau, left Trevor's house that evening to pay
another visit, while Merton himself arrived, in evening dress, to dinner
at a quarter past eight. He had telegraphed to Logan: 'Entirely
successful. Come up by the 11.30 to-night, and bring Mrs. Bower.'

The marquis did not appear at dinner. He was in bed, and, thanks to a
sleeping potion, slumbered soundly. He awoke about nine in the morning
to find Mrs. Bower by his bedside.

'Eh, marquis, finely we have jinked them,' said Mrs. Bower; and she went
on to recount the ingenious measures by which the marquis, recovering
from his 'dwawm,' had secretly withdrawn himself.

'I mind nothing of it, Jeanie, my woman,' said the marquis. 'I thought I
wakened with some deevil running a knife into me; he might have gone
further, and I might have fared worse. He asked for money, but, faith,
we niffered long and came to no bargain. And a woman brought me away.
Who was the woman?'

'Oh, dreams,' said Mrs. Bower. 'Ye had another sair fit o' the dwawming,
and we brought you here to see the London doctors. Hoo could ony mortal
speerit ye away, let be it was the fairies, and me watching you a' the
time! A fine gliff ye gie'd me when ye sat up and askit for sma' yill'
(small beer).

'I mind nothing of it,' replied the marquis. However, Mrs. Bower stuck
to her guns, and the marquis was, or appeared to be, resigned to accept
her explanation. He dozed throughout the day, but next day he asked for
Merton. Their interview was satisfactory; Merton begged leave to
introduce Logan, and the marquis, quite broken down, received his kinsman
with tears, and said nothing about his marriage.

'I'm a dying man,' he remarked finally, 'but I'll live long enough to
chouse the taxes.'

His sole idea was to hand over