“And what do I do when I get there?” he persisted.
“For three days,” the Marquis told him, “you will remain indoors, and give audience to whoever may come to you. At the end of that time, you will understand a little more of our purpose and our objects—perhaps, even, of our power.”
“I see difficulties,” Peter Ruff remarked. “There will be a good many people who will remember me when I had offices in Southampton Row. My name, you see, is uncommon.”
Sogrange drew a document from the breast pocket of his coat.
“When you leave this house to-night,” he proclaimed, “we bid good-by forever to Mr. Peter Ruff. You will find in this envelope the title deeds of a small property which is our gift to you. Henceforth you will be known by the name and title of your estates.”
“Title!” Peter Ruff gasped.
“You will reappear in London,” Sogrange continued, “as the Baron de Grost.”
Peter Ruff shook his head.
“It won’t do,” he declared, “people will find me out.”
“There is nothing to be found out,” the Marquis went on, a little wearily. “Your country life has dulled your wits, Baron. The title and the name are justly yours—they go with the property. For the rest, the history of your family, and of your career up to the moment when you enter Porchester House to-night, will be inside this packet. You can peruse it upon the journey, and remember that we can, at all times, bring a hundred witnesses, if necessary, to prove that you are who you declare yourself to be. When you get to Charing-Cross, do not forget that it will be the carriage and servants of the Baron de Grost which await you.”