"And that I am a reformed character, I suppose you would say, and have become a respectable member of society! No, no, Lord Langerdale, I am no hypocrite, and I shall never tell her that. A wanderer upon the face of the earth I have been during the best years of my life, and a wanderer I shall always be--adventurer, some people have said. Well, well, let it be so; what matter?" Lord Langerdale shook his head doubtfully. "I am sorry to hear you talk so, Eugène; but of one thing you may always be sure--Elsie and I will never be your judges. If you feel that it will reopen old wounds, stop away; but if not, why, come and see us. You have a young friend with you," he added, turning slightly towards me and speaking a little more earnestly than the occasion seemed to require. The man whom he called Eugène shook his head. "I am not so fortunate," he said stiffly. "I can claim no more than what on the Continent we call a 'table acquaintance' with this young gentleman." It might have been my fancy, but it seemed to me that Lord Langerdale looked distinctly disappointed. He bowed courteously to me, however, shook hands with his friend and rejoined his wife. My new acquaintance resumed his former position, and, with it, his old nonchalant manner. "Your pardon," he said lightly, "for this long digression. And now tell me, _mon ami_, shall we spend the evening together? You are a stranger in London, you say; I am not," he added drily. "Come, shall I be your cicerone?" I really had nothing else to do, so I assented at once. "Good! Let us finish the bottle to a pleasant evening. But, ah! I forgot. We must be introduced. The English custom demands it, even though we introduce ourselves. Your name is?" "Morton," I answered--"Philip Morton. I haven't a card." "Good! Then, Mr. Philip Morton, permit me the honour of introducing to you--myself. I am called de Cartienne--the Count Eugène de Cartienne--but I do not use the title in this country." CHAPTER XLII. NEWS OF MR. MARX. For a moment or two I remained quite silent, for the simple reason that I was far too astonished to make any remark. My new acquaintance sat looking at me with slightly-raised eyebrows and carelessly toying with his eyeglass; yet, notwithstanding his apparent nonchalance, I felt somehow aware that he was watching me keenly. "My name appears to be a surprise to you," he remarked, keeping his eyes fixed steadily upon my face. "Have you heard it before, may I ask?" "Yes," I assented, "one of the fellows down at Borden Tower----" "What, you know Leonard?" he interrupted. "Egad! how strange! Then you are one of Dr. Randall's pupils, I suppose?" "Yes; I have only been there a very short time, though. And Leonard is----" "My son."