Fitz kept staring at me as if he couldn't stare enough.
'You're either Montagu Babbacombe or his ghost!'
'Sorry, but I don't chance to be either. And as I've not the pleasure of your acquaintance, and don't desire your intrusion here, allow me to remind you that the street's handy. Foster, touch the bell.'
Foster touched the bell. Reggie interposed.
'Twickenham, this gentleman, Mr. FitzHoward, has rendered me a very great service in exposing the fraud that has been practised.'
I sat tight. A footman appeared.
'Show Lord Reginald's acquaintance to the front door.'
Poor Fitz was all of a fluster.
'I'm a man who requires no second hint that my room's preferred to my company, but if you're not Montagu Babbacombe I'll eat my hat.'
He clapped it on to his head as if to illustrate his meaning. Reggie stopped him as he was going.