"Mr. Meyrick," put in Minot, "may I be allowed to say that I consider your action hasty—"
"And may I be allowed to ask what affair this is of yours?" demanded Mr. Meyrick hotly.
"Father!" cried Miss Meyrick. "Please do not be harsh with Mr. Minot. His heart is absolutely set on my marriage with Lord Harrowby. Naturally he feels very badly over all this."
Minot winced.
"Come, Cynthia," said Meyrick, moving toward the door. "I've had enough of this play-acting. Remember, sir—the wedding is off—absolutely off—until you are able to establish your identity beyond question."
And he and his daughter went out. Minot sat for a long time staring at Lord Harrowby. Finally he spoke.
"Say, Harrowby," he inquired, "who the devil are you?"
His lordship sadly shook his head.
"You, too, Brutus," he sighed. "Haven't I one friend left? I'm Allan Harrowby. Ask Jephson. If I weren't, that policy that's causing you so much trouble wouldn't be worth the paper it's written on."
"That's right, too. Well, admitting you're Harrowby, how are you going to prove it?"