you need not be ashamed to take his name. Vy should not you
be Count Bonker?"

"You prefer to travel in titled company? Well, be hanged--why not! When
one comes to think of it, it seems a pity that my sins should always be
attributed to the middle classes."

Accordingly this history has now the honorable task of chronicling the
exploits of no fewer than two noblemen.

CHAPTER VII

Late that evening they reached a city which the home-coming chieftain in
an outburst of Celtic fervor dubbed "mine own bonny Edinburg!" and there
they repaired for the night to a hotel. Once more the Baron (we may
still style him so since the peerage of Tulliwuddle was of that standing
also) showed a certain diffidence when it came to answering to his new
title in public; but in the seclusion of their private sitting-room he
was careful to assure his friend that this did not arise from any lack
of nerve or qualms zof conscience, but merely through a species of
headache--the result of railway travelling.

"Do not fear for me," he declared as he stirred the sugar in his glass,
"I have ze heart of a lion."

The liquid he was sipping being nothing less potent than a brew of
whisky punch, which he had ordered (or rather requested Bunker to order)
as the most romantically national compound he could think of, produced,
indeed, a fervor of foolhardiness. He insisted upon opening the door
wide, and getting Bunker to address him as "Tollyvoddle," in a strident
voice, "so zat zey all may hear," and then answering in a firm "Yes,
Count Bonker, vat vould you say to me?"

It is true that he instantly closed the door again, and even bolted it,
but his display seemed to make a vast impression upon himself.

"Many men vould not dare so to go mit anozzer name," he announced; "bot
I have my nerves onder a good gontrol."

"You astonish me," said the Count.

"I do even surprise myself," admitted the Baron.

In truth the ordeal of carelessly carrying off an alias is said by those
who have undergone it (and the report is confirmed by an experienced
class of public officials) to require a species of hardihood which,
fortunately for society, is somewhat rare. The most daring Smith will
sometimes stammer when it comes to merely answering "Yes" to a cry of
"Brown!" and Count Bunker, whose knowledge of human nature was profound
and remarkably accurate, was careful to fortify his friend by example
and praise, till by the time they went to bed the Baron co