"Hardly, your Grace, there is still something which we wish to say to you." The Duke of Datchet shut the door again. "Then say it. Only say it, if possible, in such a manner as not to compel me to--kick you, Mr. Golden." "Your Grace will believe that in anything I have said, or in anything which I am to say, nothing is further from my wish than to cause your Grace annoyance. But, on the other hand, surely your Grace is too old, and too good a customer of our house, to wish to see us ruined." "I had rather, Mr. Golden, see you ruined ten thousand times over than that you should ruin my wife's fair fame." Mr. Golden hesitated; he seemed to perceive that the Duke's retort was not irrelevant. He turned to Mr. Ruby. "Mr. Ruby, will you be so good as to explain what reasons we had for believing that this person was what she called herself--the Duchess of Datchet? Because your Grace must understand that we did not entertain that belief without having at least some grounds to go upon." Mr. Ruby, thus appealed to, began to fidget. He did not seem to relish the office which his partner had imposed upon him. The tale which he told was rather lame--still, he told it. "Your Grace will understand that I--I am acquainted, at least by sight, with most of the members of the British aristocracy, and--and, indeed, of other aristocracies. But it so happened that, at the period of your Grace's recent marriage, I happened to be abroad, and--and, not only so, but--but the lady your Grace married was--was a lady--from--from the country." "I am perfectly aware, Mr. Ruby, whom I married." "Quite so, your Grace, quite so. Only--only I was endeavouring to explain how it was that I--I did not happen to be acquainted with her Grace's personal appearance. So that when a carriage and pair drove up to our establishment with your Grace's crest upon the panel----" "My crest upon the panel!" "Your Grace's crest upon the panel"--as Mr. Ruby continued, the Duke of Datchet bit his lip--"and a lady stepped out of it and said, 'I am the Duchess of Datchet; my husband tells me that he is an old customer of yours,' I was only too glad to see her Grace, because, as your Grace is aware, we have the honour of having your Grace as an old customer of ours. 'My husband has given me this cheque to spend with you.' When she said that she took a cheque out of her purse, one of your Grace's own cheques drawn upon Messrs. Coutts, 'Pay Messrs. Ruby and Golden, or order, one thousand pounds,' with your Grace's signature attached. I have seen too many of your Grace's cheques not to know them well. She purchased goods to the value of a thousand pounds, and she gave us your Grace's cheque to pay for them." "She gave you that cheque, did she?" Mr. Golden interposed, "We presented the cheque, and it was duly honoured. On the face of such proof as that, what could we suppose?" The Duke was moving about the room--it seemed, a little restlessly.