“I hope he finds it out!” said Tom. “I’m quite certain he will. You may count on――” “I beg pardon!” The interruption came from the doorway where a tall, heavily-built gentleman stood half revealed. “I see that I’m wrong. But you will kindly tell me where I can find Mr. Clendennin? I was directed, I thought, to this room, but――” The intruder’s gaze traveled from one to the other of the four occupants and came to rest on Mr. Cooper. It was then that his apologetic explanation ceased abruptly and a look of great surprise came into his face. He pushed the door wider and took a step into the room. “By the Great Horn Spoon!” he shouted. “Jack Kemble!” Mr. Cooper arose and stepped forward with outstretched hand. “Hello, Dick,” he replied quietly but with evident pleasure. “No idea you were about.” Very gently he urged the other back to the threshold. “But what the dickens,” went on the visitor, still pumping the hand he held, “are you doing here? I say, Ellen, you’ve heard me speak of Captain Kemble a hundred times. Jack, shake hands with my wife.” To the bewildered trio in the room a momentary vision of a blue-gowned figure showed behind the men. “The last I heard of you――” The door swung slowly shut and only a murmur of voices came from the corridor. The three boys stared at each other in puzzlement. Then Clif sank back into his chair, and Tom followed suit more slowly. The silence lasted a full minute. Then Loring said: “What did he call him, Clif? I thought he said――” “He did!” burst out Tom. “‘Jack Kemble’! What’s it mean? Did he get our names mixed, do you suppose? But I never saw him before!” “I have,” said Clif. “I saw him this morning. His name’s Murdock. He’s got a boy in the Junior School, a sort of fat kid――” “But he called Mr. Cooper ‘Jack Kemble’!” persisted Tom. “I――I don’t like it! It’s spooky! That was my――my――” The door opened again and Mr. Cooper reëntered. He was smiling faintly, but the smile was different, and he avoided Tom’s troubled eyes as he went back to his chair. “Dick Murdock,” he explained apologetically. “We were together for a time during the War. I hadn’t seen him for a number of years. Hope we didn’t――er――startle you.” “No, sir, not a bit,” murmured Loring. “What did he call you?” demanded Tom a trifle shrilly. “Oh, that!” Mr. Cooper laughed lightly. “That _was_ startling, wasn’t it? Murdock was always a perfect ass when it came to remembering names. By the way, just what did he call me?” “Kemble, sir,” answered Clif. “I thought it sounded like that, too. Odd, eh? I mean, a bit of a coincidence, wasn’t it?” Tom was leaning forward in his chair, staring frowningly. “I don’t believe that!” he broke forth harshly. “What _is_ your name? You’ve got to tell us!” The half smile left the man’s face. For a long moment he stared at the floor. Then he lifted his gaze to Tom’s, met it squarely and answered. “John Middenwill Cooper-Kemble,” he said.