I was shown in to Mr. Babbacombe. The 'Sleeping Man' was taking his ease in what I took to be a private sitting-room. That is, he reclined on a couch. On a small table at his side was a bottle of whisky and a tumbler. On a larger table, where it was well out of his reach, was a bottle of water--full. He was smoking what I knew by its perfume to be a good cigar. He was dressed in a suit of dark grey, which not only seemed to be a good fit, but to be well cut. He wore a high collar, and a white Jarvey tie, in which was thrust a diamond pin. He looked as if he had something to do with horses. He also looked as if he was Twickenham. If he was not--then, as the phrase goes, I was prepared to eat my hat. He paid not the slightest heed to my entrance, but, without even a movement of his head, continued in the enjoyment of his cigar. I was angered by his air of perfect calmness. The impudence of the thing! 'May I ask what you mean by your extraordinary behaviour--extraordinary even for you? Do you take me for an utter fool?' 'Name of Smith?' 'Name be hanged! Do you suppose that I don't know you?--that I couldn't bring a hundred persons into this room who'd know you on the instant?' 'Bring two.' 'What do you propose to gain?' 'That's it.' 'Why do you conceal your identity?' 'I'm wondering.' 'If I bring the landlord into this room and tell him who you are, will you venture to deny it?' 'Depends on who I am.' 'I believe you're a criminal lunatic.' 'The same to you. And many of 'em.' He sipped at his glass. He filled me with such rage--which was, after all, unreasonable rage--that I was unwilling to trust myself to speak. My impulse was to seize him by the scuff of his neck and drag him home with me, and show him to them all; when the question of his identity would be settled on the spot. However, I remembered in time that that was not the purpose which had brought me there. My intention was a very different one; and I proposed to carry it out. That is, if his humour fitted mine. 'Have you ever heard of the Marquis of Twickenham?' 'The Marquis of Twickenham?' Leaning back, he stroked his chin with a gesture which so vividly recalled a favourite trick of Leonard's that I could have struck him for thinking that I could be fooled so easily. 'Might.' 'Are you aware that in appearance you resemble him?' 'Good-looking chap.' 'He was a poor devil last night.' 'Extremes meet.' 'I am actuated in what I am going to say by your own eccentric behaviour. I need not tell you that I should not say anything of the kind were you to act like a reasonable being. But since, beyond the shadow of a doubt, you are partly mad, I am going to take it for granted that you are wholly mad. I make this preliminary observation because I want us to understand each other.' 'You take some understanding.' 'So do you. Are we private here?' 'You might look under the couch. I don't know that there's a cupboard.'