"You?" exclaimed Mr. Fanning. "According to your story," Quorn maintained. Mr. Fanning turned a glance on Mr. Purvis which suggested a grave doubt as to their companion's sobriety. "Oh," he replied sarcastically, "and 'oo may you be?" "Well," answered Quorn deliberately, "I rather think I'm Lord Quorn." Again Mr. Fanning's glance sought Mr. Purvis', and this time it indicated a diagnosis of more serious mental trouble than mere alcohol would account for. "Oh, you think that, do you?" he returned with gentle banter. "Then," he added mischievously, "I should recommend your lordship goin' up to the Towers 'ere, and turnin' out the party 'oo is at present occupyin' your position." "Oh?" Quorn started up as a fresh puzzle took hold of his mind. "Is that so?" Instead of replying directly to his questioner, Mr. Fanning turned to his friend, and somewhat exasperatingly repeated the enquiry to him. "Is that so, Mr. Purvis?" Then with an exaggerated wink, he added, "Yes, no doubt about it, there's a screw loose somewheres." Quorn stared at him for a moment, and then turned to the door. "What's the name of the place?" he asked over his shoulder. "Your lordship's residence?" grinned Fanning. "Staplewick Towers." And as the door shut upon their late companion the two aggrieved heroes indulged in the first merriment they had found the heart for since it had been borne in upon them that their gallantry was held so cheap. CHAPTER XX Staplewick Towers. That was the name of the place, his own, that he had been on his way to see. He would soon get the answer to the riddle. As to his having been nearly drowned, it could not have been he. The last thing he remembered was drinking the drugged wine at the _Quorn Arms_. Surely he had not gone through an active existence between that and his waking up in the doctor's surgery. He argued the probabilities with himself as he hastened eagerly towards the Towers which loomed grey and real enough before him. Confident now of his position he walked through the lodge gates with an air of ownership, and made his way up the drive until he saw a little way in front of him several people. The sight checked his hurry. It suddenly occurred to him that it would be a good plan and amusing to lie low and just see what was really going on before declaring himself. One thing was certain. He was not the Lord Quorn who had been rewarded with a fortune for pretending to have saved a millionaire's life. That was too good to be true; he only wished it were. Then who was the other Lord Quorn, and what devil's game could they be playing? So he turned off the drive and slunk along behind the shrubs which fringed it, lurking in the bushes until he could see his way clear to get up to the house. He was seen, as has been shown, but the observers were too intent on their own ends to take more than casual notice of him.