"Monty, by the High Heavens!" he exclaimed. Then he smacked his forehead, "Monty—Montvillier—you ain’t my Duke are you?" "I’m your Duke—your liege Duke of life and limb and earthly regard——" "Half a mo," said the vulgarly practical Tuppy, "I’m comin’ over." He came over the wall, silk hat awry, joyously dusty. He all but fell upon the Duke’s neck. "My dear old bird," he cried ecstatically, "of all the wonderful coincidences that ever made a novelist’s fortune, this is the wonderfullest—this is the exalted top-notcher. If the dowager knew, she’d go ravin’ mad. I’ve a jolly good mind to write an’ tell her." Arm in arm they passed into the house. That night: Tuppy wrote to Tummy Clare—his one confidant. "Tummy, old friend," the letter ran, "the unfailing mystery of solar phenomena, the unswerving accuracy of the comet’s flight, the ordered perambulations of the whole damn planetary system, all these pale to insignificance beside the phenomena of human movement. In other words, the trick some chaps have of turning up in unexpected places ... Monty! You remember the beggar, in your house at Eton ... didn’t know he was a duke ... riotous and profitable night ... piquet ... I rubiconed him twice, piqued, re-piqued, capotted and ... I held fourteen aces six times in succession ... won about ten pounds...." That night: "I think," said Sir Harry rubbing his hands cheerfully, "that we have said, ’Check to the Duke person.’" "Tuppy’s arrived?" asked Hal. "Yes; Smith put him into the house, and Rake is putting him into the paper. I rather fancy that if Tuppy plays his cards well, he will score heavily." As we have seen, Tuppy played his cards very well, and indeed _did_ score heavily. X "You will like Tuppy," said the Duke earnestly. To the scandal of the neighbourhood, he insisted upon conducting his courtship in the manner it began, and he addressed Alicia from the top platform of the Sacred Ladder. "Tuppy has faults," the Duke continued, "but so have we all, or nearly all," he corrected modestly. "As poor old Tuppy says, life’s song is played by a pianolo. A thousand ancestors have helped to perforate the roll and the tune is inevitable." "A philosopher," said Alicia drily. "Tuppy complains bitterly about the unreasonableness of a world that expects cantatas from the roll in which generations of Tuppings have been punching comic songs. You’ll like Tuppy." "In spite of his mission?" she smiled. "To cut me out?" The Duke shook his head tolerantly. "Poor old chap, he recognizes the hopelessness of that. No; Tuppy is not that kind. I say!" he said enthusiastically. "There’s Tuppy in his garden." "Monty!" said a voice. "That’s him," said the Duke ungrammatically, but with an air of proprietorship. "Monty!" said the voice again, "give me a leg up, dear boy—I’m comin’ over for a cocktail." Miss Alicia Terrill raised her eyebrows. "He means a cup of tea," said the Duke hastily.