Seeing FitzHoward gave me just a little something of a turn. I got then and there the first faint glimmer at the mistake I'd made. But as it's a motto of mine to put on an extra size in smiles each time I'm downed, I just sat tight and wondered who he was. There didn't seem to be much in the wonder line about him. He came sailing straight across at me, his hand stretched out. 'Mr. Babbacombe!' His tone betokened joy. I knew FitzHoward. I wasn't responsive. 'Who's this person with his hat on his head? Has it become the rule here for men to enter a room with their hats on?' This was one for Reggie as well as Fitz. Both hats were off before I'd hardly finished. Fitz's enthusiasm seemed a little damped. His hand went back. 'Mr. Babbacombe, I--I was afraid you were dead.' 'What are you talking about? Foster, I hope I don't happen to have dropped into the wrong house by any chance. First I'm mistaken for a ghost, then--for the deuce knows who.' Fitz kept staring at me as if he couldn't stare enough. 'You're either Montagu Babbacombe or his ghost!' 'Sorry, but I don't chance to be either. And as I've not the pleasure of your acquaintance, and don't desire your intrusion here, allow me to remind you that the street's handy. Foster, touch the bell.' Foster touched the bell. Reggie interposed. 'Twickenham, this gentleman, Mr. FitzHoward, has rendered me a very great service in exposing the fraud that has been practised.' I sat tight. A footman appeared. 'Show Lord Reginald's acquaintance to the front door.' Poor Fitz was all of a fluster. 'I'm a man who requires no second hint that my room's preferred to my company, but if you're not Montagu Babbacombe I'll eat my hat.' He clapped it on to his head as if to illustrate his meaning. Reggie stopped him as he was going. 'I am very much obliged to you, Mr. FitzHoward, for what you have done for me; and trust to be able to avail myself of an early opportunity to tender you my thanks in a more suitable form.' 'My lord, you are welcome. Any little service I may do you I am always yours to command.' Out marched Fitz, with banners flying. I turned my attention to Reggie. 'Reggie, to save trouble later on, may I call your attention to two points? The first is, that I'm not dead. The second is, that I should be obliged by your not using my house as if it were your own. As I have still something which I wish to say to Foster, will you have the extreme kindness to allow me to say it?' He was turning away with--I'll bet a pound!--unfraternal feelings in his breast--strange how little brotherly affection some men have--when a thought occurred to me. 'By the way, where's Douglas?' 'He's ill.' 'Ill? Since when?' 'Since this morning.' 'I asked you where he was.' 'He's at home with Violet.' 'Violet? Is that that young sister of his?' 'Young? She's old enough to be my promised wife.' As I looked at him he eyed me with quite a disagreeable expression in his eyes. I whistled.