I sauntered after them: why I wanted to learn which of the lords he was, I can't tell, for lords are numerous enough, but I had had a curiosity upon the point ever since. They encountered some people and were standing to speak to them; three ladies, and a fellow in a black glazed hat with a piece of green ribbon round it. "I was trying to induce my wife to take a sail," the lord was saying, "but she won't. She is not a very good sailor, unless the sea has its best behaviour on." "Will you go to-morrow, Mrs. Mowbray?" asked the man in the glazed hat, who spoke and looked like a gentleman. "I will promise you perfect calmness. I am weather-wise, and can assure you this little wind will have gone down before night, leaving us without a breath of air." "I will go: on condition that your assurance proves correct." "All right. You of course will come, Mowbray?" The lord nodded. "Very happy." "When do you leave Brighton, Mr. Mowbray?" asked one of the ladies. "I don't know exactly. Not for some days." "A muff as usual, Johnny," whispered Tod. "That man is no lord: he is a Mr. Mowbray." "But, Tod, he _is_ the lord. It is the one who travelled with us; there's no mistake about that. Lords can't put off their titles as parsons can: do you suppose his servant would have called him 'my lord,' if he had not been one?" "At least there is no mistake that these people are calling him Mr. Mowbray now." That was true. It was equally true that they were calling her Mrs. Mowbray. My ears had been as quick as Tod's, and I don't deny I was puzzled. They turned to come up the pier again with the people, and the lady saw me standing there with Tod. Saw me looking at her, too, and I think she did not relish it, for she took a step backward as one startled, and then stared me full in the face, as if asking who I might be. I lifted my hat. There was no response. In another moment she and her husband were walking quickly down the pier together, and the other party went on to the end quietly. A man in a tweed suit and brown hat drawn low over his eyes, was standing with his arms folded, looking after the two with a queer smile upon his face. Tod marked it and spoke. "Do you happen to know that gentleman?" "Yes, I do," was the answer. "Is he a peer?" "On occasion." "On occasion!" repeated Tod. "I have a reason for asking," he added; "do not think me impertinent." "Been swindled out of anything?" asked the man, coolly. "My father was, some months ago. He lost a pocket-book with fifty pounds in it in a railway carriage. Those people were both in it, but not then acquainted with each other." "Oh, weren't they!" said the man. "No, they were not," I put in, "for I was there. He was a lord then." "Ah," said the man, "and had a servant in livery no doubt, who came up my-lording him unnecessarily every other minute. He is a member of the swell-mob; one of the cleverest of the _gentleman_ fraternity, and the one who acts as servant is another of them."