"Ya-ah! May good digestion wait on appetite, eh Auntie! I guess so," replied Sam, with a roguish twinkle of his eye and the inimitable side movement of his head. "Dear me," continued Mrs. Harris, "I may as well be resigned to the inevitable, for I fear the 'Texas brand' will never groom out." "I must go home," exclaimed Mr. Thorpe. "My impatience to meet Constance is consuming me. Mrs. Harris and gentlemen, pray pardon my haste," and, lifting his hat, he withdrew. Then Sam related in detail the bath and discovery of Jack Shore at the jail. "Fact, Uncle," he continued, "a regular fiend." "What! Jack Shore, of the Securities Investment Association!" exclaimed Mr. Harris, with surprise. "The same identical chap, Uncle." "Dear me; who was his confederate?" questioned Mrs. Harris. "We have yet to discover, but suspect a certain person well known to you." "Whom do you suspect?" sharply demanded Mrs. Harris. "A much-honored member of society," replied Sam, with fine sarcasm. "But we must have his name," insisted Mrs. Harris. She was promptly supported by Mr. Harris, who said: "By all means, we must know who he is." "My Lord Beauchamp!" Sam answered, with emphasis. "Dear me," gasped Mrs. Harris. "What a shock!" and then, recovering herself, she repeated doubtfully: "Lord Beauchamp an imposter?" "He's a villain anyhow, Auntie!" exclaimed Sam. "The same 'gent' who ran me down when I was tracking the Dago up there near the City park--thought he put me out of business." "What proof have you that he is an imposter?" demanded Mrs. Harris, sternly. "Yes, proof, proof! That is what we want!" exclaimed James Harris, visibly agitated. "To satisfy himself the detective cabled our Ambassador at London to make inquiry. This morning he received a reply." And so saying, Sam took from his pocket an envelop containing a cablegram and handed it to Mr. Harris, with the remark: "Uncle, the detective turned it over to me at noon." Mr. Harris took from the envelop the cablegram, and adjusting his eyeglasses, read aloud: "There's only one Lord Beauchamp in England's peerage, and he, with whom I am personally acquainted, was at the embassy yesterday." It was signed "White." Then Mr. Harris looked over the paper in his hand--over the eyeglasses into nothingness, with an expression on his face of deep chagrin, and in a low voice, as though muttering to himself, indiscreetly said: "Damn the luck! The fellow is into me for ten thousand dollars." The words had scarcely escaped from his lips when Mrs. Harris, her eyes staring with astonishment, sharply exclaimed: "Ten thousand dollars! Why, James Henry, you must have been hypnotized!" It caused Sam to smile, and remark with a look of reproach: "Auntie!"