At 75 the King's Bench Walk, they found Mrs. Brown and the Lump. Mr. Wilkinson needed no more evidence than the warmth with which Pollyooly kissed and hugged her little brother; but none the less he received Mrs. Brown's convincing assurances that she was Mary Bride. When that worthy woman had been dismissed to the kitchen, he said heavily: "This has been an unfortunate mistake--very unfortunate." "Not so unfortunate as it would have been if Pollyooly had been ten years older. It would have cost you hundreds. As it is, I shouldn't wonder if she would be content with a fiver as compensation," said the Honourable John Ruffin with a soothing smile. Mr. Wilkinson groaned; then he said: "Well, I've made a mistake, and I suppose I must pay for it." Slowly and sadly he drew a five-pound note from his notebook and handed it to Pollyooly. "Thank you, sir," said Pollyooly; and dropped a curtsey, like the well-mannered child she was. "Your housekeeper? To think that she should have roused the whole hotel to get that bath!" said Mr. Wilkinson bitterly. "She was for the time being the daughter of a duke--by your appointment," said the Honourable John Ruffin suavely. Mr. Wilkinson waved the detective out of the room, and followed him. At the door he paused to say very heavily: "I shall never trust my eyes again." "No: I shouldn't," said the Honourable John Ruffin gently. "I think another time, if I were you, I should try glasses." CHAPTER VII POLLYOOLY PLAYS THE GOOD SAMARITAN Mr. Wilkinson had departed, a sadder but very little wiser man, and taken his detective with him; Mrs. Brown had been thanked, paid, and dismissed; and Pollyooly, having sufficiently fondled and kissed the irresponsive but unresisting Lump, went into the kitchen and set about getting ready the Honourable John Ruffin's tea. She had lighted the gas under the kettle and taken the bread and butter from the cupboard, when he came into the kitchen, wearing an air of the most earnest purpose, and said impressively: "Genius, Pollyooly--genius is the art of taking infinite pains." "Yes, sir," said Pollyooly politely. "That is why you are unsurpassed in the art of grilling bacon; you take infinite pains with it," he went on with the same earnestness. "Yes, sir," said Pollyooly with more understanding. "And now I am going to instruct you in the art of making tea," he said proudly. "I only learned yesterday that it was an art. Till then I believed that you merely poured boiling water on tea, and there you were. I have learned that it is not so. Also I have learned that that vegetable which comes from India and Ceylon, and is called tea by those who sell it, is not really tea at all. Tea only comes from China; and I have bought some." "Yes, sir," said Pollyooly with the air of one receiving information gratefully. "And now I will teach you the art of making it exactly as it was taught to me," he said with a very schoolmasterly air.