"I know it. Many a glass which cheers have I drained there. _Dulce desipere in loco_. You don't know Horace, perhaps?" "I suspect you don't," said Alan, annoyed by this hedge-Latin. "Hurry up!" "Fifty pounds, Mr. Thorold." "After our interview with Mrs. Warrender," amended the other significantly. "Command my services," said Cicero, and rapidly put on his frock-coat, battered hat and gloves. After he had brushed his greasy broadcloth, and dusted his large boots with the red bandana, he announced that he was ready. The oddly-assorted pair proceeded to the Norfolk Hotel through the Lambeth slums. Cicero seemed to be very well known and very popular. He exchanged greetings with shady acquaintances, patted ragged children on the head, and arrived at the hotel swelling with pride. He felt that he had shown Alan he was a man of consequence. Arrived at their destination, they were shown by a slipshod waiter into a shabby sitting-room on the first floor where they found Mrs. Warrender. She rose, and on seeing Cicero, gave a shriek of surprise. "Bill!" she cried with a gasp. "Clara Maria!" exclaimed the so-called Cicero, "my beloved sister! What a surprise!" CHAPTER VIII. AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW "Well, I never!" gasped the widow, who, womanlike, was the first to find her tongue. "Is it really you, Billy?--but I might have guessed it, from your writing. Yet it never entered my head!" She stopped and grew suddenly furious. "My husband, you wretch!--have you killed him?" "No, Clara Maria, no! I came here to give information about his poor body. I did not expect to find my sister--the celebrated Miss de Crespigny--in the person of Mrs. Warrender!" "What is all this about?" demanded Alan quietly. "Is this your brother, Mrs. Warrender?" "To my shame, sir, I confess this--this creature"--Mrs. Warrender brought out the word with a hiss--"this degraded beast, is my brother." "Oh, Clara Maria, how can you----" "Hold your tongue!" interrupted the lady angrily. "You were always a drunkard and a scoundrel! Now you've come to blackmailing! Two hundred pounds from me, you wretch! Not one sixpence!" "I have already," said her brother majestically, "arranged pecuniary matters with my friend Mr. Thorold. But I wonder at you, Clara Maria, I really do, considering how we parted. Is this the greeting of flesh and blood?" cried Mr. Gramp in a soaring voice, and standing on tiptoe. "Is this what human nature is made of? The late Sir Isaac Newton was a prophet indeed when he made that remark." "Mountebank!" hissed Mrs. Warrender, curling her handsome lip. "We were both mountebanks at one time, Mr. Thorold," he said, turning to Alan, who, in spite of his anxiety, was watching the scene with unconcealed amusement. "My sister was the celebrated Miss de Crespigny; I, the once noted actor, Vavasour Belgrave----" "And his real name is Billy Spinks!" put in Mrs. Warrender scornfully.