“I shall not mention seeing you, and the less you say about meeting me, the better I shall like it.” They shook hands on it, and each went his way, the one to report a failure, the other to seek out a hidden lord. When ushered into a vast and shadowy library, Marvin was briefly greeted by the secretary, an unsmiling man of forty, who glanced at his credentials and handed his bulky papers to an older person, evidently a solicitor. Two others were in the room, but he was presented to none of them. They gathered around the document he had brought, a long and complicated deed of sale. Marvin was conducted upstairs, with a word or two suggesting that he make no reference to the war. His lordship, clad in a silken dressing-gown, was seated in a great easy-chair, with his feet on an ottoman, a Persian shawl over them. He was a very old man, clean shaven, pale and emaciated, but his close-clipped white hair was still vigorous. Near him sat his physician, who arose as the visitor entered. Marvin was presented. The secretary placed a chair for him and withdrew. “Your father,” said Lord Fortinbras, “writes me that you know nothing about business.” “My father, your lordship, is often right.” The baron smiled and continued. “You may not be a financier, but I see from your glove that you know something about war. Sir Clifford here is curiously anxious that nobody should talk to me about the war.” Marvin was silent. “Young man, don’t you call it rather a joke that a man who has spent a lifetime to advance a navy should live to see his only grandson drowned when his favorite ship was sunk?” “No, sir. I don’t call it a joke.” The old man meditated. “He’s like his father, Sir Clifford. Says what he thinks. Give him a drink.” The physician arose, but Marvin spoke. “No need, Sir Clifford. I’m sufficiently excited by talking to his lordship. I’ve had a weak heart myself.” Sir Clifford sat down, and his lordship resumed. “A weak heart, eh? Suppose you tell me more about yourself.” “Well, sir, I fall into water whenever I get a chance. My chief fear in approaching your lordship was that I might fall into your moat while you were looking out the window, and that you would drop dead from shock.” His lordship’s thin abdomen shook with amusement. “Were you ever drowned?” “I’ve come within an ace of it twice this summer. Once an Indian got me out, and once the sweetest girl on earth got me out.” “I should like to hear about that girl.” Marvin recounted the adventure of the cave. “Going to marry her?” “Yes, sir. She says not, but she’s mistaken.” “What’s her objection?” “I hate to confess it, but I don’t know.” His lordship’s sunken eyes grew thoughtful and reminiscent. “The one who pulled me out wanted cowries. Did you ever read about my black girl?” “Yes.” “How long ago?” “About an hour.” Again the thin abdomen shook. “Sir Clifford, the truth is in him. Couldn’t I have a messmate or two down to meet him?”