Hence he was hardly in a mood to make a triumphal return to the home of his fathers, particularly as that return was attended with circumstances which might be described as delicate. He had decided to put in an appearance at St. James's Square that very night. When he found himself in the street his resolution wavered. The glare and tumult bewildered him. He was more than half afraid of the kaleidoscopic crowd. When a man, who has crucified himself during a period extending over years, drops off his cross, he is hardly in a mood to appreciate at once London as it is at night. Besides, the place was strange. He saw changes on every hand; and when he had at last concluded to try and play the man, he had to ask his way to his own home. And then he lost himself upon the road. He found himself, however, when he entered the sombre purlieus of St. James's Square. That was familiar ground. Wherever he had gone he had carried a picture of it in his brain. So far as he could see, for the place was more in shadow than in light, it was unchanged. He walked right round. As he went, a backwater from the past rushed over him, bearing him on its current to the days that were. He seemed to see himself once more a lad. With uncomfortable clarity of vision, he saw what kind of lad he was. He shuddered; and, as he neared his father's house, drew back ashamed. It was almost as if an invisible barrier had prevented his close approach. Round the square he went again. As, coming from the other direction, he approached Twickenham House a second time, he saw a man come through the door; a man who stood upon the pavement for a moment to shake his fist at the building which he had just quitted. Then, wheeling round upon his heels, he came smartly forward. As his lordship observed the approaching figure he was conscious of an odd sensation of amazement--of shock--as if he were staring at something which was not to be explained by the ordinary definitions which we use in our everyday experience, and which he more than half suspected was a trick played him by his eyes. When they came close together the two men stopped short. Each regarded the other with surprise which, for a moment or two, was speechless. Then the newcomer spoke. 'You're me. What price San Francisco? How goes it, my Lord Marquis?' There was an interval before the answer came. This took the form of an inquiry. 'What are you doing here?' 'Relinquishing the title. And you?' 'I'm returning home.' Mr. Merrett whistled. 'Seems as if I might have known you were coming back from the husks and swine, my dropping on to you like this. Anyhow, you're welcome. You come along with me; I'll post you up to date.'