le of observing anything very particularly beyond the
fact that the floor was uncarpeted, and as nearly free from furniture as
a bedroom floor could well be.

"It is ravishing!" he murmured, and dismissed her with a well-feigned
smile.

Bereft even of expletives, he gazed round the apartment prepared for
him. It was a few moments before he could bring himself to make a tour
of its vast bleakness.

"I suppose that's what they call a truckle-bed," he mused. "Oh, there
is one chair--nothing but cold water-towels made of vegetable fibre
apparently. The devil take me, is this a reformatory for bogus
noblemen!"

He next gazed at the bare whitewashed wall. On it hung one picture--the
portrait of a strangely attired man.

"What a shocking-looking fellow!" he exclaimed, and went up to examine
it more closely.

Then, with a stupefying shock, he read this legend beneath it:

"Count Bunker. Philosopher, teacher, and martyr."

For a minute he stared in rapt amazement, and then sharply rang the
bell.

"Hang it," he said to himself, "I must throw a little light on this
somehow!"

Presently the elderly man-servant appeared, this time in a state of
still more obvious confusion. For a moment he stared at the Count--who
was too discomposed by his manner to open his lips--and then, once more
stretching out his hand, exclaimed in a choked voice and a strong Scotch
accent--

"How are ye, Bunker!"

"What the deuce!" shouted the Count, evading the proffered hand-shake
with an agile leap.

The poor fellow turned scarlet, and in an humble voice blurted out--

"She told me to do it! Miss Julia said ye'd like me to shake hands and
just ca' ye plain Bunker. I beg your pardon, sir; oh, I beg your pardon
humbly!"

The Count looked at him keenly.

"He is evidently telling the truth," he thought.

Thereupon he took from his pocket half a sovereign.

"My good fellow," he began. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Mackenzie, sir."

"Mackenzie, my honest friend, I clearly perceive that Miss Wallingford,
in her very kind efforts to gratify my unconventional tastes, has
put herself to quite unnecessary trouble. She has even succeeded in
surprising me, and I should be greatly obliged if you would kindly
explain to me the reasons for her conduct, so far as you can."

At this point the half-sovereign changed hands.

"In the first place," resumed the Count, "what is the meaning of this
remarkably villainous portrait labelled with my