The next day we journeyed together down to Cressland, to see how things had gone since the last time I was there. What a place for a man to have all his own! Twenty thousand acres in the heart of England, with a mediæval castle in which to sleep o' nights. There was another great property in Scotland, something in Ireland, and a villa at Cannes; besides oddments here and there. When I remembered that the principal part of my income came from London ground rents I thanked my stars that I hadn't to keep all the land I owned clean and wholesome with just my own pair of hands. When I'd made an end of spying out some of the wonderful things which I possessed, back I came to town with Foster. When we parted at the station I dare say he thought I was going straight back home--that is, to the family mansion in St. James's Square. But I wasn't: I didn't. My objective was Mary. But I had to cover my tracks on the road to her. It wouldn't do to have it discovered that directly the Marquis of Twickenham disappeared at one end Mr. James Merrett came out at the other. That night I spent in Brighton. In the morning up to town. Dropped into a little crib where I store a few trifles which I'm not peculiarly anxious that other people should know about, and changed into the garments of James Merrett. Got on to the top of an omnibus. Then outside another. Landed finally in the neighbourhood of Little Olive Street. I was well aware that, use whatever precautions I might, I was still taking on a pretty considerable risk. But then I'd got to be a kind of a dealer in hazards. Been gambling in them my whole life long. And since I'd turned myself into a family man some of them had assumed rather curious shapes. They say that the pitcher which goes often to the well gets broken at last. Maybe. Perhaps I'd had a chip or two already. But that's part of the game. I sailed along the pavement as if I hadn't a thing in the world to fear. I'm sure that no one who'd taken stock of me would have supposed my conscience wasn't as clear as the average. Reached No. 32. Turned the handle of the front door, and walked right in. There was Mary in the sitting-room, with a pile of sewing on a table in front of her, just as I expected. 'Well, my girl,' I said, 'how's things?' I put my hat down on a chair; up she jumped, over went the sewing, and into my arms she flew. 'James! James!' I got my arms right round her, and I held her tight; you bet I did. I didn't say much, but I supplied the deficiency in another way. Presently I did make a remark. 'Why, my girl, you look--well, I really think you're getting pretty.' 'James!'