One of the strangers had been waltzing with Honor Gordon; he was a brisk young fellow, who was going to be something some day, and was seeing the world as a preliminary step. He kept his eyes open, and carried a note-book, and had run up to Shirani in order to visit his brother, and gather statistics and local colour. As they came to a halt, he panted out rather breathlessly-- “So you have got that fellow Jervis here?” nodding to where he was standing, exactly opposite. “Jervis, the millionaire, as of course you know?” “Oh no; it is his cousin, Captain Waring, who goes by that name.” “He certainly was giving that impression at Simla, and was about to be engaged to an heiress on the strength of it; but I put a stop to his game,” said the little man, complacently. “_You_ did! And may I ask why?” regarding him with great astonishment. “Why? Why should I not expose an impostor?” “I think we must be at cross purposes, and speaking of different people,” said the young lady, rather stiffly. “I think not; but we can go into that later. Do not let us lose this capital waltz.” When they had taken two more turns round the room, they came to a halt, and he suddenly recommenced-- “Waring has not a penny to bless himself with. Nothing but debts. He left the Rutlands a ruined man, ruined by his own folly.” “And Mr. Jervis?” “Is the rich young man,” he rejoined impressively. His companion’s incredulity was so plainly depicted on her countenance, that he added-- “Yes, I am not joking. That good-looking young fellow over there, near the door, who is talking to the girl in pink. I came out with him on board ship last October. He and Waring were going to do a tour--Waring was a sort of companion, and genteel courier. I must say that the young fellow was shamefully mobbed by a lot of snobs, who believed him to be a second Count de Monte Christo. He is really the adopted son of a rich City man, called Pollitt--Pollitt’s barley, you know,” with an explanatory nod--“and he will probably have an immense fortune. He is naturally fond of a quiet life, and seemed to loathe all display or ostentation. Some of the women drove him to sit all day in the smoking-room. They accompanied him fore and aft, and even down to the engine-room. For, you see, he is a good-looking, gentlemanly boy; none of the poultry grain about him, eh?” Honor felt as if she was in a dream; her head was reeling. All her ideas about the position of the two cousins were thus suddenly reversed. The news was indeed a revelation, and extremely difficult to realize. “I suppose you are _quite_ in earnest,” she faltered at last. “But do you know, that Captain Waring and Mr. Jervis were here together for weeks, and neither of them ever gave us a hint of your version of the story. It was Captain Waring who made plans, entertained, and lavished money--”