"A peer of the realm, sir! I had the honour of taking his ludship's card in--Lord Poll-parrot. Can't say I ever heard of him before." "What d'you mean? See here, I'm in a hurry; no kid, Simpson." "Well, it might be Poll-parrot. As a matter of fact, it's Lord Polperro." Gammon gazed fixedly at the young man. "Lord Polperro? By jorrocks!" "Know him, Mr. Gammon?" asked another of the clerks. "I know his name. All right, I'll wait." Musing on the remarkable coincidence--which seemed to prove beyond doubt that there still existed some connexion between the family of Quodling and the titled house which he had heard of from Greenacre--he stood in the entrance passage, and looked out for five minutes through the glass door at the fog-dimmed traffic of Norton Folgate. Then a step sounded behind him. He moved aside and saw a man in a heavy fur-lined overcoat, with a muffler loose about his neck; a thin, unhealthy-looking man, with sharp eyes, rather bloodshot, which turned timidly this way and that, and a high-bridged nose. As soon as he caught sight of the face Gammon drew himself up, every muscle strung. The man observed him, looked again more furtively, stepped past to the door. It took Gammon but a moment to dart into the clerk's room and ascertain that the person who had just gone out was Lord Polperro. A moment more and he was out in the street. The heavy-coated and mufflered man was walking quickly southward; he waved his umbrella to a passing cab, which, however, did not pull up. Gammon followed for thirty yards. Again the man hailed a cab, and this time successfully. Just as he was about to step into the vehicle Gammon stood beside him. "How do you do, Mr. Clover?" CHAPTER XVII POLLY SHOWS WEAKNESS It was spoken with quiet confidence. Gammon smiled as he looked steadily into the pale, thin face, which at once grew mottled with a disturbance of the blood. "You are making a mistake, sir," replied an indistinct voice, with an effort at dignity. "Oh, no, not a bit of it. Not now I've heard you speak, Mr. Clover." "I don't understand you, sir," sounded more clearly, the pallid visage now a muddy red and the eyes moist. "That is not my name. Be so good as to go your way." "Certainly. I just wanted to make sure, that's all. No fuss. Good morning, Mr. Clover." Gammon drew back. He heard the order "Charing Cross," and the cab drew away. After a moment or two of irresolution Gammon walked hurriedly back to the nearest public-house, where he called for a glass of bitter and the Directory. With the former he slaked a decided dryness of the throat, the latter he searched eagerly in the section "Court." There it was! "Polperro, Lord, 16, Lowndes Mansions, Sloane Street, S.W. Junior Ramblers' Club. Trefoyle, Liskeard, Cornwall." By jorrocks!