The Duke picked up a long newspaper cutting that lay at his side. "Read that," he said. Mr. Nape obeyed. It was headed "The Duke in the Suburbs," "meaning me," said the Duke complacently, "read on." Mr. Nape skimmed the leading article—for such it was—rapidly: "Titles," says Voltaire, "are of no value to posterity, the name of a man who has achieved great deeds imposes more respect than any or all epithets." "He boned that out of a book of familiar quotations," explained the Duke admiringly, "go on." "It would seem that the English character, ever sturdy and self-reliant, is in imminent danger of deterioration...." "Title worship is unworthy of a great people.... Especially foolish is the worship when the demi-god is an obscure foreigner, whose chief asset is an overwhelming amount of self confidence, and an absolute disregard for the amenities and decencies of social intercourse." "I can’t quite place that last bit," said the Duke, "it is probably employed to round off the sentence—proceed, Mr. Nape." "With every desire to preserve intact the admirable relationships that exist _at the present moment_ between ourselves and our Gallic neighbours, we should be wanting in our duty if we did not point out, and emphasize in the strongest possible terms, the necessity for a strict observance on the part of our foreign guests, of the laws of this land." "That’s rather involved," commented the Duke, "but I gather the sense of the stricture—pardon me." Mr. Nape continued. "The English laws are just and equitable; they are the admiration and wonder of the world. The late Baron Pollock on one famous occasion said——" "Skip that bit," interrupted the Duke. "The laws affecting property are no less admirably framed. In a noted judgment the late Lord Justice Coleridge laid down the dictum——" "And that bit too," said the Duke; "go on to the part that deals with the lawless alien." "Most difficult of all," read Mr. Nape, "is the landlord’s position when he has to deal with the alien, who, ignorant of the law, sets the law at defiance: who opposes his puny strength to the mighty machinery of legislation, and its accredited instruments." Hank, a silent and interested listener, moved uneasily in the depths of his big chair. He removed his cigar to ask a question. "Is she the writ of ejection or the notice to quit?" he asked soberly. "I gather that she’s the court bailiff," said the Duke reverently. "We would remind the person to whom these admonitions are addressed,—in the friendliest spirit—that there is a power behind the law. The majesty of our prestige is supported by the might of armed force."