“Gollamighty!” exclaimed the voice of Scipio. “What de debbil we got heah? Trange man in massa’s bed-room, and he not up yit. What you want, eh? He some tief—some robber.” “Why you old fool,” said I, “don’t you see it’s me—myself?” “Who me?—what dat, eh? Debbil tak me if I no b’lieve dat he has murdered massa and teal all de spoons! Help! murder!” “What do you mean, you old villain!” cried I. “Do you want to bring in the whole neighborhood?” and seizing a candlestick, I leveled it at his woolly pate. “What do _you_ mean, you scoundrel, by abusing _my_ servant?” roared a voice from the bed. I looked in that direction. There was my head protruded from the curtains, surmounted by a red night-cap, and a clenched fist was violently shaken at me from the same purlieu. “Turn him out, Scipio!” I shouted. “Turn him out!” repeated my _Eidolon_, if I may so term him. “Turn _who_ out!” queried Scipio, in a state of profound bewilderment. Perfectly frantic with rage, I flew toward the bed, eager for a pugilistic encounter, when the door was thrown open, and my old housekeeper, with pallid visage, peeped into the apartment. I determined to make an appeal to her. “Am I, or am I not your master, Nancy?” said I, in a very melancholy tone. “_You_ my master! Come up, mister himperence,” replied Nancy. “My master is in yonder bed, young man. Run, Sip, and call a policeman. He’ll make you know _your_ master, jail-bird.” “Ah!” thought I, “it’s all up, I see. That fellow’s me, and I’m somebody else, but hang me if I know who. Well, as I don’t choose to take a morning airing at Hatton Garden, I might as well abdicate at once. But,” cried I, “you scoundrel, you shall pay for this.” “Turn him out, Sip!” grunted my former voice from the bed. How hateful it sounded! “Turn him out, and don’t let me be disturbed till twelve. My head aches confoundedly.” I sneaked out of my own room like a detected pickpocket, Nancy and Scipio attending me down stairs, and delivering a brace of running lectures upon the evil courses which I was pursuing, admonishing me likewise of the certain and ignominious end which awaits such depraved and dissolute characters as I was presumed to be. At the foot of the stairs, Scipio insisted upon searching me, an operation to which, crest-fallen as I was, I did not pretend to make the slightest opposition. I was then dismissed in the same manner with Master Candide from the _château_ of Thonderdentronck, namely with _grands coups de pied dans le derrière_, pretty well administered by a brace of sturdy valets, whom Scipio had summoned to his assistance from a neighboring area.