‘My grandfather placed me with the family of an intimate friend of his, who was also the senior partner in the firm of solicitors who acted for him, a Mr Barstairs. Barstairs had married a Frenchwoman. French was the language generally spoken in their house, and most of my early years were spent abroad. I went through a public-school and Cambridge without any particular disgrace or distinction. So far, my grandfather had kept me well supplied with money; in fact, at Cambridge I had not spent my allowance. But I had never seen my grandfather. I wrote to him four times a year, and his replies were always witty and entertaining. I took everything for granted in the way that boys do. ‘On my twenty-first birthday I had a letter from my grandfather to the effect that as an experiment he wished me to make my own living in any way I liked for a period of some years. When that period was over, or sooner if he died before then, I was to be no longer under that necessity. Mr Barstairs, who had not been consulted, was indignant about that letter, but I did not resent it myself. ‘What assets had I to offer an employer? My classical degree would have entitled me to teach in a school—a truly awful profession to my mind. I spoke two Continental languages well and a third passably. I had an unusual knowledge of wines and cuisine for a man of my age. (Mr Matthews will remember that Barstairs was an epicure.) I had seen a good deal of hotel life at home and abroad. I took counsel with Mr Hance, the proprietor of this hotel, who was known to me. After some training at an hotel in Paris I became the night head-waiter here, using my first name, Leonard, as my surname. My grandfather and Mr Barstairs alone were taken into my secret. It is to the latter that I owe the pleasure of having served a club of which I should be proud one day to become a member, if that were possible. I saw life from a novel and interesting angle. I had my mornings free for poetry, to which I am devoted. I was quite satisfied. ‘There is little more to add. In the year that I came here my uncle died unmarried. Three months ago my grandfather also died, and I——’ ‘Pardon me,’ said Sir Charles, ‘but I have been watching your face carefully, and I think I see a family likeness or the trace of one. All that you have said would confirm it. I think you are the grandson of the founder of this club, and in that case you are the sixth Baron Herngill.’