"As well make no words over it, sir. It's only waste of time."
"You have a warrant—as I understand—to arrest Mr. Percival Elster?"
"Yes, sir, I have. The man that was looking for you in London got taken ill, and couldn't come down, so our folks sent me. 'You'll know him by his good looks,' said they; 'an aristocrat every inch of him.' Don't give me trouble, sir."
"Well now—I am not Percival Elster: I am his brother, Lord Hartledon. You cannot take one brother for another; and, what's more, you had better not try to do it. Stay! Look here."
He pulled out his card-case, and showed his cards—"Earl of Hartledon." He exhibited a couple of letters that happened to be about him—"The Right Honble. the Earl of Hartledon." It was of no use.
"I've known that dodge tried before too," said his obstinate capturer.
Lord Hartledon was growing more angry. He saw some proof must be tendered before he could regain his liberty. Jabez Gum happened to be standing at his gate opposite, and he called to him.
"Will you be so kind as to tell this man who I am, Mr. Gum. He is mistaking me for some one else."
"This is the Earl of Hartledon," said Jabez, promptly.
A moment's hesitation on the officer's part; but he felt too sure of his man to believe this. "I'll take the risk," said he, stolidly. "Where's the good of your holding out, Mr. Elster?"