“Bowles’ll know,” declared Nick. “Speak up, Bowles, old top! Gentlemen, we have with us this evening ’is ’Ighness’s tried and trusted retainer, Mr. Bowles. A short cheer for Bowles, fellows!” “Rah, rah, rah! Bowles!” was the instant and enthusiastic response. Bowles looked distinctly uncomfortable, although he tried hard to smile a respectful smile. “Now, then, Bowles, out with it!” demanded Nick. “What was this vile conspiracy to――――” “Really, sir, I’m not at liberty――――” “Bowles, shut up!” warned Hugh sharply. “Hobo, don’t interfere,” cried Roy Dresser. “Someone muzzle him.” He wasn’t muzzled, but several fellows so engaged his attention for a minute that speech was impossible. “Now, Bowles, once more. You were saying?” “I beg your pardon, sir, but I’m not at liberty to speak, sir. His Lordship――――” There was a smothered groan from the struggling Hugh. “Who?” asked Nick. “That is, sir, Master Hugh――――” “Wait a minute,” exclaimed Bert, pushing forward. “You said something about ‘his Lordship,’ Bowles. Who did you mean?” Bowles cast an anguished look across the table toward Hugh, but no help came to him for the reason that Hugh was very, very busy. “No one, sir. A――a figure of speech, if you please, sir.” “Well, all right, Bowles. Proceed. Tell us your sweet, sad story,” prompted Nick. “Hold on,” interrupted Bert. “Let’s get this straight. There’s something queer here.” “Several,” murmured Nick. “Who’s his Lordship, Bowles? Do you mean Hugh?” “Really, Mr. Winslow――――” began the perturbed Bowles. At that instant Hugh threw off the enemy and bounded to his feet. “Bowles!” he cried. “Shut up! Get out of here!” “Yes, sir,” said Bowles with vast relief. But Bert interposed. “Don’t you do it, Bowles,” he commanded. “Let’s get this straight.” “Bowles!” cautioned Hugh sternly. “Let him talk. Free speech!” said Longley. “Fellows,” interrupted Wallace Cathcart mildly, “we’re making it very difficult for Mr. Bowles. Besides, he’s not going to tell you anything, and I will, if you’ll be quiet a minute.” “Shoot!” said Nick. “Shut up, everyone! Go ahead, Wal.” “Well, I suppose Hugh will want my life blood,” went on Cathcart, smiling at Hugh’s frowning and anxious countenance, “but I’ll trust to you fellows to save me.” “He shan’t touch a bone of your head,” Pop assured him. “I know he doesn’t want it known, fellows, but I don’t see why it shouldn’t be. Besides, it’s bound to get out some time, isn’t it?” “I guess so,” agreed Nick. “What are you talking about?” “It was something Hugh let drop in my room one day that made me――well, suspicious. There’s a book in the library that tells all about the English nobility and titled families and all that, you know, and so I had a look at it. Hugh had told me that he lived at a place called Glyndestoke, and so the rest was easy.” Everyone was silent and curious, everyone save Hugh. Hugh was palpably unhappy. “I say, Wal, if you know anything, shut up, won’t you?” he begged.