Lord Herngill had done very little better. He had attempted no disguise at all. His idea had been, in the course of travel on the Bakerloo Tube railway, to get into conversation with six different people and to tell six plausible but erroneous stories about himself. His statement that he personally had driven the first train that had passed under the Thames in that tube, being in fact the consulting engineer of the company, was received by an old lady with great interest and not the slightest suspicion. He then changed into another carriage and found an opportunity to tell a young curate that though he lived within ten miles of London he had never been there in his life before. He was only there then because he had to see property that he had inherited at Swiss Cottage. And could the curate tell him at all where Swiss Cottage was? That question was his undoing. ‘I can not only tell you,’ said the smiling curate, ‘but, as it happens, I am going there myself, and it will give me much pleasure to have your company.’ And by the time that he had got rid of that curate it was hopeless to attempt his remaining impersonations within the prescribed time. It was generally felt that in a matter of impersonation Lord Herngill, on his previous character, should have done better. Mr Quillian had bestowed six shillings on six different crossing-sweepers. Five of them had said, ‘Thank you, m’lord,’ and the other had said, ‘Thank you, Captain.’ On this he claimed to have won, as it was obvious that all five crossing-sweepers could not have mistaken him for the same peer. It was pointed out to him by the chairman that there was not the slightest evidence that any one of those crossing-sweepers had made any mistake at all. For once Pusely-Smythe had failed to compete, and said that he had been too busy. It was suggested that his time had been taken up with spending his winnings from the previous month. Mr Matthews also had taken no part in the competition. The reason he gave was simple cowardice; the ghastly breakdown of his attempt to impersonate an old lady for the purposes of the Kiss Problem had spoiled his nerve for anything of the kind in the future. The disgraceful adventure of Feldane and Hesseltine seemed likely to be the nearest approach to the problem-setter’s requirements, until Sir Charles Bunford was called on for his experiences. Sir Charles claimed to have won. ‘I came to the conclusion,’ said Sir Charles, ‘that the man who asks for something or tries to sell something is likely to create an atmosphere of suspicion. On the other hand the man who gives something, even to a complete stranger, will have his explanatory story accepted without question. The fact that he stands to lose by the transaction is accepted as evidence of his genuineness.