hy
did you transfer your attentions to me? And generally, what induced you
to make yourself such a nuisance?"

He blushed deeply.

"Why, sir," says he, "there _is_ such a thing as patriotism, I hope."

CHAPTER XVI

THE HOME-COMING OF MR. ROWLEY'S VISCOUNT

By eight the next morning Dudgeon and I had made our parting. By that
time we had grown to be extremely familiar; and I would very willingly
have kept him by me, and even carried him to Amersham Place. But it
appeared he was due at the public-house where we had met, on some
affairs of my great-uncle the Count, who had an outlying estate in that
part of the shire. If Dudgeon had had his way the night before, I should
have been arrested on my uncle's land and by my uncle's agent, a
culmination of ill-luck.

A little after noon I started, in a hired chaise, by way of Dunstable.
The mere mention of the name Amersham Place made every one supple and
smiling. It was plainly a great house, and my uncle lived there in
style. The fame of it rose as we approached, like a chain of mountains;
at Bedford they touched their caps, but in Dunstable they crawled upon
their bellies. I thought the landlady would have kissed me; such a
flutter of cordiality, such smiles, such affectionate attentions were
called forth, and the good lady bustled on my service in such a pother
of ringlets and with such a jingling of keys. "You're probably expected,
sir, at the Place? I do trust you may 'ave better accounts of his
lordship's 'elth, sir. We understood that his lordship, Mosha de
Carwell, was main bad. Ha, sir, we shall all feel his loss, poor, dear,
noble gentleman; and I'm sure nobody more polite! They do say, sir, his
wealth is enormous, and before the Revolution, quite a prince in his own
country! But I beg your pardon, sir; 'ow I do run on, to be sure; and
doubtless all beknown to you already! For you do resemble the family,
sir. I should have known you anywheres by the likeness to the dear
viscount. Ha, poor gentleman, he must 'ave a 'eavy 'eart these days!"

In the same place I saw out of the inn-windows a man-servant passing in
the livery of my house, which you are to think I had never before seen
worn, or not that I could remember. I had often enough, indeed, pictured
myself advanced to be a Marshal, a Duke of the Empire, a Grand Cross of
the Legion of Honour, and some other kickshaws of the kind, with a
perfect rout of flunkeys correctly dressed in my own colours. But