CHAPTER II.

The Baron was in high hopes of seeing the fair unknown at breakfast, but it seemed she must be either breakfasting in her own room or lying long abed.

"I think I shall go out for a little const.i.tutional," said Mr Bunker, when he had finished. "I suppose the hotel has a stronger attraction for you."

"Ach, yes, I shall remain," his friend replied. "Pairhaps I may see zem."

"Take care then, Baron!"

"I shall not propose till you return, Bonker!"

"No," said Mr Bunker to himself, "I don't think you will."

Just outside St Egbert's there is a high breezy sweep of downs, falling suddenly to a chalky seaward cliff. It overlooks the town and the undulating inland country and a great spread of shining sea; and even without a spy-gla.s.s you can see sail after sail and smoke-wreath after smoke-wreath go by all day long.

But Mr Bunker had apparently walked there for other reasons than to see the view. He did stop once or twice, but it was only to scan the downs ahead, and at the sight of a fluttering skirt he showed no interest in anything else, but made a straight line for its owner. For her part, the lady seemed to await his coming. She gathered her countenance into an expression of as perfect unconcern as a little heightening of her colour would allow her, and returned his salute with rather a distant bow. But Mr Bunker was not to be damped by this hint of barbed wire. He held out his hand and exclaimed cordially, "My dear Lady Alicia! this is charming of you!"

"Of course you understand, Mr Beveridge, it's only--"

"Perfectly," he interrupted, gaily; "I understand everything I should and nothing I shouldn't. In fact, I have altered little, except in the trifling matter of a beard, a moustache or two, and, by the way, a name."

"A name?"

"I am now Francis Bunker, but as much at your service as ever."

"But why-I mean, have you really changed your name?"

"Circ.u.mstances have changed it, just as circ.u.mstances shaved me."

Lady Alicia made a great endeavour to look haughty. "I do not quite understand, Mr--"

"Bunker-a temporary t.i.tle, but suggestive, and simple for the tradesmen."

"I do not understand your conduct. Why have you changed your name?"

"Why not?"

This retort was so evidently unanswerable that Lady Alicia changed her inquiry.

"Where have you been?"

"Till yesterday, in London."

"Then you didn't go to your own parish?" she demanded, reproachfully.

"There were difficulties," he replied; "in fact, a certified lunatic is not in great demand as a parish priest. They seem to prefer them uncertified."

"But didn't you try?"

"Hard, but it was no use. The bishop was out of town, and I had to wait till his return; besides, my position was somewhat insecure. I have had at least two remarkable escapes since I saw you last."

"Are you safe here?" she asked, hurriedly.

"With your consent, yes."

She looked a little troubled. "I don't know that I am doing right, Mr Bev-Bunker, but--"

"Thank you, my friend," he interrupted, tenderly.

"Don't," she began, hastily. "You mustn't talk like--"

"Francis Beveridge?" he interrupted. "The trouble is, this rascal Bunker bears an unconscionably awkward resemblance to our old friend."

"You must see that it is quite-ridiculous."

"Absurd," he agreed,-"perfectly preposterous. I laugh whenever I think of it!"

Poor Lady Alicia felt like a man at a telephone who has been connected with the wrong person. Again she made a desperate shift to fall back on a becoming pride.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"If I mean anything at all, which is always rather doubtful," he replied, candidly, "I mean that Beveridge and his humbug were creatures of an occasion, just as Bunker and his are of another. The one occasion is pa.s.sed, and with it the first entertaining gentleman has vanished into s.p.a.ce. The second gentleman will doubtless follow when his time is up. In fact, I may be said to be a series of dissolving views."

"Then isn't what you said true?"

"I'm afraid you must be more specific; you see I've talked so much."

"What you said about yourself-and your work."

He shook his head humorously. "I have no means of checking my statements."

She looked at him in a troubled way, and then her eyes fell.

"At least," she said, "you won't-you mustn't treat me as-as you did."

"As Beveridge did? Certainly not; Bunker is the soul of circ.u.mspection.

Besides, he doesn't require to get out of an asylum."

"Then it was only to get away?" she cried, turning scarlet.

"Let us call it so," he replied, looking pensively out to sea.

It seemed wiser to Lady Alicia to change the subject.

"Who is the friend you are staying with?" she asked, suddenly.