"I want to know, Lord Stranleigh, and I have a right to ask, why you gave a hundred pounds to my wife." "To your wife?" echoed Stranleigh in amazement. "Yes. I have made a memorandum of the numbers, and here they are--two fifty-pound notes. Bank of England. Do you deny having given them to her?" "I gave two fifty-pound notes to a young lady, whose name, I understood, was Trevelyan--a name which I also bear. She informed me, and somehow I believed her, that her purse containing steamship ticket and money, had been lost or stolen." A wry smile twisted the lips of the alleged husband. "Oh, that's the story is it? Would you be surprised if the young lady in question denied that _in toto_?" "I should not be astonished at anything," replied his lordship, "if you are in possession of the actual bank-notes I gave to her." "She describes your having taken these flimsies from a number of others you carry in your pocket. Would you mind reading me the number of others you carry in your pocket. Would you mind reading me the number of the next note in your collection?" "Would you mind reading me the numbers on the notes you hold?" asked Stranleigh, in cool, even tones, making no sign of producing his own assets. "Not at all," replied the other; whereupon he read them. The notes were evidently two of a series, and the numbers differed only by a single unit. Stranleigh nonchalantly took out his pocket-book, and the intruder's eyes glistened as he observed its bulk. Stranleigh glanced at the number on the top bank-note, and replaced his pocket-book, leaning back in his easy chair. "You are quite right," he said. "Those are the notes I gave to Miss Trevelyan." "I asked why." "I told you why." "That cock-and-bull story won't go down," said the other. "Even the richest men do not fling money about in such reckless fashion. They do it only for a favour given or a favour expected." "I dare say you are right. But come to the point, as you said you would." "Is that necessary?" "I don't know that it is. You want money--as large an amount as can be squeezed from a man supposedly wealthy. You use your good-looking wife as a decoy----" "You are casting aspersion on a lady quite unknown to you!" cried his visitor, with well-assumed indignation. "Pardon me, you seem to be casting aspersion on her whom you say is your wife. I don't know how these notes got into your hands, but I'd be willing to stake double the amount that the lady is quite innocent in the matter. She certainly is so far as I am concerned. If the lady is your wife, what is her name? She told me she was travelling under a different title from that written on the lost ticket." "I am not ashamed of my name, if you are of yours. My name is Branksome Poole." "Ah, then she is Mrs. Branksome Poole?" "Naturally." Stranleigh reached out and drew towards him a passenger list. Running his eye down the column of cabin passengers, he saw there the names: "Mr. and Mrs. Branksome Poole."