The scene that ensued I am powerless to describe. My pen is unequal to it. The doctor arose, not so much angry as astonished, white and incredulous. "What did you do that for, any way?" he asked, glaring fiercely at my brother-in-law. Charles was all abject apology. He began by profusely expressing his regret, and offering to make any suitable reparation, monetary or otherwise. Then he revealed his whole hand. He admitted that he was Sir Charles Vandrift, the famous millionaire, and that he had suffered egregiously from the endless machinations of a certain Colonel Clay, a machiavellian rogue, who had hounded him relentlessly round the capitals of Europe. He described in graphic detail how the impostor got himself up with wigs and wax, so as to deceive even those who knew him intimately; and then he threw himself on Dr. Quackenboss's mercy, as a man who had been cruelly taken in so often that he could not help suspecting the best of men falsely. Mrs. Quackenboss admitted it was natural to have suspicions--"Especially," she said, with candour, "as you're not the first to observe the notable way Elihu's hair seems to originate from his forehead," and she pulled it up to show us. But Elihu himself sulked on in the dumps: his dignity was offended. "_If_ you wanted to know," he said, "you might as well have asked me. Assault _and_ battery _is_ not the right way to test whether _a_ citizen's hair is primitive or acquired." "It was an impulse," Charles pleaded; "an instinctive impulse!" "Civilised man restrains his impulses," the doctor answered. "You _have_ lived too long _in_ South Africa, Mr. Porter--I mean, Sir Charles Vandrift, if that's the right way _to_ address such a gentleman. You appear to _have_ imbibed the habits _and_ manners of the Kaffirs you lived among." For the next two days, I will really admit, Charles seemed more wretched than I could have believed it possible for him to be on somebody else's account. He positively grovelled. The fact was, he saw he had hurt Dr. Quackenboss's feelings, and--much to my surprise--he seemed truly grieved at it. If the doctor would have accepted a thousand pounds down to shake hands at once and forget the incident--in my opinion Charles would have gladly paid it. Indeed, he said as much in other words to the pretty American--for he could not insult her by offering her money. Mrs. Quackenboss did her best to make it up, for she was a kindly little creature, in spite of her roguishness; but Elihu stood aloof. Charles urged him still to go out to South Africa, increasing his bait to two thousand a year; yet the doctor was immovable. "No, no," he said; "I had half decided _to_ accept your offer--_till_ that unfortunate impulse; but that settled the question. _As_ an American citizen, I decline _to_ become the representative _of_ a British nobleman who takes such means _of_ investigating questions which affect the hair and happiness _of_ his fellow-creatures."