o see me, Sir. What can I do for you?" he began.

"No," replied Armitage quickly. "You wished to see me. I came in answer
to that advertisement."

The lawyer came nearer, and his scrutiny became keener.

"Oh, yes--I see. May I ask in what way this advertisement interests
you?"

"Only that I'm John Armitage--that's all."

Mr. Willoughby started, and, taking out his handkerchief nervously,
wiped his face. As much as any lawyer allows himself to show emotion, he
betrayed surprise. He came still closer and, peering into his visitor's
face, said:

"You? _You_ are John Armitage?"

He looked at his visitor's dress, noticed his clumsy thick-soled boots,
soiled jacket and trousers, and he shook his head incredulously.

"The world's full of impostors," he muttered to himself, "but we lawyers
are too much for them." Aloud he repeated: "_You_ are John Armitage?"

"Yes--I am John Armitage, formerly of Alnwick Tower, Bucks, England."

Hurrying back to his desk, the old lawyer opened a drawer and took from
it a faded photograph. Holding it so that Armitage could not see it, he
stood comparing the portrait with the living man before him.

"Same face!" he murmured. "Older--more serious expression, but same
shaped head--same features." Aloud he added: "If, as you say, you are
John Armitage, you have, of course, some way of identifying yourself.
You see we have to be very careful."

Armitage laughed.

"I don't happen to have a passport," he said. "When I left England some
fifteen years ago I didn't think I'd require one. But I've a mark on my
left arm, a rough tattooing of the Armitage crest, which I did in my
foolish boyhood days. And I have some letters which my mother wrote me
after I left home. Those I've treasured. I let everything else go, but
her letters I kept." Placing his hand over his heart, he added: "They're
here."

As Mr. Willoughby grew more and more interested he became more and more
nervous.

"Let me see them," he said impatiently.

Armitage opened his vest and drawing forth a small package of
yellow-stained letters tied with a bit of ribbon, he handed them over.

"I guess we have no secrets from you," he said. "You may read them."

Mr. Willoughby untied the package, opened a letter and glanced hurriedly
at the handwriting and signature. Then he handed them back.

"That's enough," he cried. "That's enough." Starting forward, he
extended his hand.

"My dear Sir John--allow me to congratulate you!"