a couple
of hundred guests or so; but that an American house, with over a
thousand visitors--many of whom came and went daily--could not
undertake such a quixotic quest on behalf of a single foreign
complainant.

That epithet, "foreign," stung Charles to the quick. No Englishman
can admit that he is anywhere a foreigner. "Do you know who I am,
sir?" he asked, angrily. "I am Sir Charles Vandrift, of London--a
member of the English Parliament."

"You may be the Prince of Wales," the man answered, "for all I care.
You'll get the same treatment as anyone else, in America. But if
you're Sir Charles Vandrift," he went on, examining his books, "how
does it come you've registered as Mr. Peter Porter?"

Charles grew red with embarrassment. The difficulty deepened.

The dispatch-box, always covered with a leather case, bore on its
inner lid the name "Sir Charles Vandrift, K.C.M.G.," distinctly
painted in the orthodox white letters. This was a painful
contretemps: he had lost his precious documents; he had given a
false name; and he had rendered the manager supremely careless
whether or not he recovered his stolen property. Indeed, seeing he
had registered as Porter, and now "claimed" as Vandrift, the manager
hinted in pretty plain language he very much doubted whether there
had ever been a dispatch-box in the matter at all, or whether, if
there were one, it had ever contained any valuable documents.

We spent a wretched morning. Charles went round the hotel,
questioning everybody as to whether they had seen his dispatch-box.
Most of the visitors resented the question as a personal imputation;
one fiery Virginian, indeed, wanted to settle the point then and
there with a six-shooter. Charles telegraphed to New York to prevent
the shares and coupons from being negotiated; but his brokers
telegraphed back that, though they had stopped the numbers as far
as possible, they did so with reluctance, as they were not aware of
Sir Charles Vandrift being now in the country. Charles declared he
wouldn't leave the hotel till he recovered his property; and for
myself, I was inclined to suppose we would have to remain there
accordingly for the term of our natural lives--and longer.

That night again we spent at the Lakeside Hotel. In the small hours
of the morning, as I lay awake and meditated, a thought broke
across me. I was so excited by it that I rose and rushed into my
brother-in-law's bedroom. "Charles, Charles!" I exclaimed, "we h