"Well, tell him that an old college friend of his would like to see him." For an instant the girl looked at him doubtfully; then, reassured by the clerical costume, invited him to step inside. Abandoning his support with extreme care, Mr. Bascombe followed her into a comfortably-furnished study on the left-hand side of the hall. "Will you take a seat, sir?" she said. The invitation was a shade superfluous, for his legs having suddenly failed him, the visitor had already sat down abruptly in a large easy chair against the wall. The uncertainty in the girl's face deepened into dismay. "I will tell Colonel Marshall you are here," she said shortly, and with that she hastened from the room, shutting the door behind her. Mr. Bascombe just had time to pull himself together before the Governor entered. Colonel Marshall was a tall, soldierly-looking man with upturned grey moustache and humorous eyes of a keen blue. The maid had evidently apprised him of her experience, for he looked over his caller with mingled curiosity, amusement, and suspicion. "Well, sir," he said, "and what can I do for you?" Mr. Bascombe, feeling that it would be tempting Providence, made no attempt to rise. He just sat still and smiled. "You don't know me?" he observed affably. "I am afraid not," said the Governor. "Ah," replied Mr. Bascombe with a chuckle, "that's the disguise, sir!" Lifting up his hand he removed the wig. The Governor stared at him for a moment in amazement. "Good heavens!" he cried, "it's Bascombe!" The convict bowed. "You'll excuse my not getting up, sir. No intention of being disrespectful--been lunching at the Moorlands Hotel." The Governor sat down in a chair and burst into a roar of laughter. "You scoundrel!" he chuckled. "You've given us a nice chase. Half the warders are out after you now. What on earth induced you to bolt, and where did you get those clothes?" He broke down again and shook with suppressed merriment. Thus adjured, Mr. Bascombe unfolded his story. He told it quite simply, making no attempt to apologize for his escape, or to seek avoidance in any way of the punishment that awaited him. The Governor listened with vast interest and amusement, his sense of humour temporarily overcoming the amazing irregularity of the whole proceedings. When Mr. Bascombe described his lunch, and the production of the '58 port, he lay back in his chair and laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. Finally, when the narrative was finished, he got up. "Well, Bascombe," he said, with a smile, "you've had your fun, and now you've got to pay for it." The convict, who was beginning to feel better, rose instantly to his feet and saluted. The Governor not unkindly laid his hand upon the old sinner's shoulder. "You're a disgrace to the prison, Bascombe," he said, "but I'll do my best for you." And Colonel Marshall kept his word. The Nadir Bandar I had known Bruce for about fifteen years before this amazing thing happened.