A crowd had gathered round, and two gentlemen in anticipation of the arrival of the police, were investigating the contents of the peer's pockets, when a tall, thin, gentlemanly man, one Sir Henry d'Estragon, a Lieutenant-Colonel in the service, well known about Wimbledon and Molesey, and who had even reminiscences of Primrose Hill when there was such a place unpolluted, pushed his way through, crying, "Why, Winslow, what is the matter? How do you do, my dear fellow? Here seems a row. What is going on?" "Perhaps, d'Estragon, you can persuade this person, whose nose I have just had the pleasure of pulling," replied Chandos Winslow, "that I am not a low vagabond dressed up like a gentleman. He is not inclined to take my card, but calls for the police." "Rather strange," said Sir Henry d'Estragon. "I thought it was Lord Overton: but I must be mistaken." "No Sir, you are not," replied the peer; "but I have every reason to believe this person to be an impostor." "Pooh!" said the officer, turning away with a scoff. "Come, Winslow; if he chooses policemen for his friends on such occasions, we had better get away. Here they come." "Stay a moment, Sir," said Lord Overton; "if you will be answerable that this person is--" "Mr. Chandos Winslow, my lord," replied Sir Henry, "second son of my old friend Sir Harry Winslow, whom I had the honour of accompanying in 'twenty-seven, when he shot Michael Burnsley. I have nothing more to say, except that there is the gentleman's card. Any friend of yours will find me with him till twelve to-morrow. But if you prefer the police, you must send them after us. Goodnight, my lord." Lord Overton took the tendered card; and Sir Henry, putting his arm through that of Chandos, walked away up Charles-street, while the policemen came up and inquired what was the matter; but got no satisfactory answer. The next morning Sir Henry d'Estragon sat at breakfast with Chandos Winslow in his hotel, making himself very comfortable with all the etcæteras of an English breakfast, when Lord George Lumley was announced; and, as Chandos knew no such person, the object of his visit was not difficult to divine. All formal courtesies were gone through in a very formal manner; and then, after a single instant's pause, and a look at a patent-leather boot, Lord George addressed himself to the business in hand. "I have the honour, Mr. Winslow," he said, "of bearing you a message from my friend, Lord Overton. It would seem a very strange misconception took place last night, according to Lord Overton's account, from whom I required a full explanation of the whole circumstances, as I never undertake anything of this kind, without having made myself master of the facts."