"My old friend the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg, and your own most recent admirer," he replied. "I am at present living with, in fact I may say upon, him."

"Does he know?"

"If you meet him, you had perhaps better not inquire into my past history."

"I meant, does he know about-about your knowing me?"

"Bless them!" thought Mr Bunker; "one forgets they're not _always_ thinking about us!"

"My n.o.ble friend has no idea that I have been so fortunate," he replied.

Lady Alicia looked relieved. "Who is he?" she asked.

"A German n.o.bleman of great wealth, long descent, and the most accommodating disposition. He is at present exploring England under my guidance, and I flatter myself that he has already seen and done a number of things that are not on most programmes."

Lady Alicia was silent for a minute. Then she said with a little hesitation, "Didn't you get a letter from me?"

"A letter? No," he replied, in some surprise.

"I wrote twice-because you asked me to, and I thought-I wondered if you were safe."

"To what address did you write?"

"The address you gave me."

"And what was that?" he asked, still evidently puzzled.

"You said care of the Archbishop of York would find you."

Mr Bunker abruptly looked the other way.

"By Jove!" he said, as if lost in speculation, "I must find out what the matter was. I can't imagine why they haven't been forwarded."

Lady Alicia appeared a little dissatisfied.

"Was that a _real_ address?" she asked, suddenly.

"Perfectly," he replied; "as real as Pentonville Jail or the House of Commons." ("And as likely to find me," he added to himself.)

Lady Alicia seemed to hesitate whether to pursue the subject further, but in the middle of her debate Mr Bunker asked, "By the way, has Lady Grillyer any recollection of having seen me before?"

"No, she doesn't remember you at all."

"Then we shall meet as strangers?"

"Yes, I think it would be better; don't you?"

"It will save our imaginations certainly."

Lady Alicia looked at him as though she expected something more; but as nothing came, she said, "I think it's time I went back."

"For the present then _au revoir_, my dear Alicia. I beg your pardon, Lady Alicia; it was that rascal Beveridge who made the slip. It now remains to make your formal acquaintance."

"You-you mustn't try!"

"The deuce is in these people beginning with B!" he laughed. "They seem to do things without trying."

He pressed her hand, raised his hat, and started back to the town. She, on her part, lingered to let him get a clear start of her, and her blue eyes looked as though a breeze had blown across and ruffled them.

Mr Bunker had reached the esplanade, and was sauntering easily back towards the hotel, looking at the people and smiling now and then to himself, when he observed with considerable astonishment two familiar figures strolling towards him. They were none other than the Baron and the Countess, engaged in animated conversation, and apparently on the very best terms with each other. At the sight of him the Baron beamed joyfully.

"Aha, Bonker, so you haf returned!" he cried. "In ze meanvile I haf had vun great good fortune. Let me present my friend Mr Bonker, ze Lady Grillyer."

The Countess bowed most graciously, and raising a pair of tortoise-sh.e.l.l-rimmed eye-gla.s.ses mounted on a stem of the same material, looked at Mr Bunker through these with a by no means disapproving glance.

At first sight it was evident that Lady Alicia must "take after" her n.o.ble father. The Countess was aquiline of nose, large of person, and emphatic in her voice and manner.

"You are the 'showman,' Mr Bunker, are you not?" she said, with a smile for which many of her acquaintances would have given a tolerable percentage of their incomes.

"It seems," replied Mr Bunker, smiling back agreeably, "that the Baron is now the showman, and I must congratulate him on his first venture."

For an instant the Countess seemed a trifle taken aback. It was a considerable number of years since she had been addressed in precisely this strain, and in fact at no time had her admirers ventured quite so dashingly to the attack. But there was something entirely irresistible in Mr Bunker's manner, partly perhaps because he never made the mistake of heeding a first rebuff. The Countess coughed, then smiled a little again, and said to the Baron, "You didn't tell me that your showman supplied the little speeches as well."

"I could not know it; zere has not before been ze reason for a pretty speech," responded the Baron, gallantly.

If Lady Grillyer had been anybody else, one would have said that she actually giggled. Certainly a little wave of scandalised satisfaction rippled all over her.

"Oh, really!" she cried, "I don't know which of you is the worst offender."

All this time, as may be imagined, Mr Bunker had been in a state of high mystification at his friend's unusual adroitness.

"How the deuce did he get hold of her?" he said to himself.

In the next pause the Baron solved the riddle.

"You vil vunder, Bonker," he said, "how I did gom to know ze Lady Grillyer."

"I envied, certainly," replied his friend, with a side glance at the now purring Countess.

"She vas of my introdogtions, bot till after you vent out zis morning I did not lairn her name. Zen I said to myself, 'Ze sun shines, Himmel is kind! Here now is ze fair Lady Grillyer-my introdogtion!' and zo zat is how, you see."

"To think of the Baron being here and our only finding each other out by chance!" said the Countess.

"By a fortunate providence for me!" exclaimed the Baron, fervently.

"Baron," said the Countess, trying hard to look severe, "you must really keep some of these nice speeches for my daughter. Which reminds me, I wonder where she can be?"

"Ach, here she goms!" cried the Baron.