ady
Tulliwuddle. Guess I know what I'm doing."

Whereupon the late Lord Tulliwuddle, kilt and all, was conveyed by a
guard of six tall men and deposited in the bit of genuine antique above
the harness-room. This proved to be a small chamber in a thick-walled
wing of the original house, now part of the back premises; and there,
with his face buried in his hands, the poor prisoner moaned aloud--

"Oh, my life, she is geblasted! I am undone! Oh, I am lost!"

"Will it be so bad as that, indeed?"

He looked up with a start, and perceived Dugald, his jailor, gazing upon
him with an expression of indescribable sagacity.

"The master will be sending me with his car to tell the folks at
Hechnahoul," added Dugald.

Still the Baron failed to comprehend the exchange of favors suggested by
his jailor's sympathetic voice.

"Go, zen!" he muttered, and bent his head.

"You will not be wishing to send no messages to your friends?"

At last the prisoner understood. For a sovereign Dugald promised to
convey a note to the Count; for five he undertook to bribe the chauffeur
to convey him to The Lash, when he learned where that gentleman was to
be found. And he further decided to be faithful to his trust, since, as
he prudently reflected--

"If he will be a real chentleman after all it shall not be well to be
hard with him. And if he will not be, nobody shall know."

The Baron felt a trifle less hopeless now, yet so black did the prospect
remain that he firmly believed he should never be able to raise his head
again and meet the gaze of his fellow-men; not at least if he stayed in
that room till the police arrived.

CHAPTER XXXIV

Not even the news of Flodden brought direr dismay to Hechnahoul than Mr.
Maddison's brief note. Lord Tulliwuddle an impostor? That magnificent
young man a fraud? So much geniality, brawn, and taste for the bagpipes
merely the sheep's clothing that hid a wandering wolf? Incredible! Yet,
on second thoughts, how very much more thrilling than if he had really
been an ordinary peer! And what a judgment on the presumption of Mr. and
Mrs. Gallosh! Hard luck on Eva, of course--but, then, girls who aspire
to marry out of their own station must expect this kind of thing.

The latter part of this commentary was naturally not that of the
pretender's host and hostess. In the throes of their anger and chagrin
their one consoling reflection was that no friends less tried than Mr.
and Mrs. Rentoul happened to