“Hard, but it was no use. The bishop was out of town, and I had to wait till his return; besides, my position was somewhat insecure. I have had at least two remarkable escapes since I saw you last.” “Are you safe here?” she asked, hurriedly. “With your consent, yes.” She looked a little troubled. “I don’t know that I am doing right, Mr Bev—Bunker, but——” “Thank you, my friend,” he interrupted, tenderly. “Don’t,” she began, hastily. “You mustn’t talk like——” “Francis Beveridge?” he interrupted. “The trouble is, this rascal Bunker bears an unconscionably awkward resemblance to our old friend.” “You must see that it is quite—ridiculous.” “Absurd,” he agreed,—“perfectly preposterous. I laugh whenever I think of it!” Poor Lady Alicia felt like a man at a telephone who has been connected with the wrong person. Again she made a desperate shift to fall back on a becoming pride. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “If I mean anything at all, which is always rather doubtful,” he replied, candidly, “I mean that Beveridge and his humbug were creatures of an occasion, just as Bunker and his are of another. The one occasion is passed, and with it the first entertaining gentleman has vanished into space. The second gentleman will doubtless follow when his time is up. In fact, I may be said to be a series of dissolving views.” “Then isn’t what you said true?” “I’m afraid you must be more specific; you see I’ve talked so much.” “What you said about yourself—and your work.” He shook his head humorously. “I have no means of checking my statements.” She looked at him in a troubled way, and then her eyes fell. “At least,” she said, “you won’t—you mustn’t treat me as—as you did.” “As Beveridge did? Certainly not; Bunker is the soul of circumspection. Besides, he doesn’t require to get out of an asylum.” “Then it was only to get away?” she cried, turning scarlet. “Let us call it so,” he replied, looking pensively out to sea. It seemed wiser to Lady Alicia to change the subject. “Who is the friend you are staying with?” she asked, suddenly. “My old friend the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg, and your own most recent admirer,” he replied. “I am at present living with, in fact I may say upon, him.” “Does he know?” “If you meet him, you had perhaps better not inquire into my past history.” “I meant, does he know about—about your knowing me?” “Bless them!” thought Mr Bunker; “one forgets they’re not _always_ thinking about us!” “My noble friend has no idea that I have been so fortunate,” he replied. Lady Alicia looked relieved. “Who is he?” she asked. “A German nobleman of great wealth, long descent, and the most accommodating disposition. He is at present exploring England under my guidance, and I flatter myself that he has already seen and done a number of things that are not on most programmes.” Lady Alicia was silent for a minute. Then she said with a little hesitation, “Didn’t you get a letter from me?”