“My dear Baron, ask what you like,” replied Mr Bunker. “In a city full of strangers, or of friends who have forgotten me, you alone have my confidence. My story is a common one of youthful folly and present repentance, but such as it is, you are welcome to it.” The Baron gulped down half a glass of port and leaned forward sympathetically. “My father,” Mr Bunker continued with an air of half-sad reminiscence, “is one of the largest landowners and the head of one of the most ancient families in the north of England. I was his eldest son and heir. I am still, I have every reason to believe, his eldest son, but my heirship, I regret to say, is more doubtful. I spent a prodigal youth and a larger sum of money than my poor father approved of. He was a strict though a kind parent, and for the good of my health and the replenishment of the family coffers, which had been sadly drained by my extravagance, he sent me abroad. There I have led a roving life for the last six years, and at last, my wild oats sown, reaped, and gathered in (and a well-filled stackyard they made, I can assure you), I decided to return to England and become an ornament to respectable society. Like you, I arrived in London to-day, but only to find to my disgust that my family have gone to winter in Egypt. So you see that at present I am like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a rock and waiting, with what patience I can muster, for a boat to take me off.” “You mean,” inquired the Baron, anxiously, “that you vish to go to Egypt at vonce?” “I had thought of it; though there is a difficulty in the way, I admit.” “You vill not stay zen here?” “My dear Baron, why should I? I have neither friends nor——” He stopped abruptly. “I do not like to zink I shall lose your company so soon.” “I admit,” allowed Mr Bunker, “that this fortunate meeting tempts me to stay.” “Vy not?” said the Baron, cordially. “Can your fader not vait to see you?” “I hardly think he will worry about me, I confess.” “Zen stay, my goot Bonker!” “Unfortunately there is the same difficulty as stands in the way of my going to Egypt.” “And may I inquire vat zat is?” “To tell you the truth,” replied Mr Bunker, with an air of reluctant candour, “my funds are rather low. I had trusted to finding my father at home, but as he isn’t, why——” he shrugged his shoulders and threw himself back in his chair. The Baron seemed struck with an idea which he hesitated to express. “Shall we smoke?” his friend suggested. “Vaiter!” cried the Baron, “bring here two best cigars and two coffee!” “A liqueur, Baron?” “Ach, yah. Vat for you?” “A liqueur brandy suggests itself.” “Vaiter! and two brandy.” “And now,” said the Baron, “I haf an idea, Bonker.” CHAPTER II.