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 that might be shyness or might be guile—that put him on his guard. Could it be that one of the “confidence-men,” about whom he had just spoken so lightly, was going to practise on him ere even the securities were out of the purser’s custody? He wondered what tale would be unfolded for his entrapment.

“I am the Duke of Beaumanoir,” the stranger replied, after a nervous glance round. “I don’t suppose you ever heard of me. There wouldn’t have been time for a letter from your people to reach you from this side before you sailed.”

“You know my wife and daughter?” the Senator asked, sharply. The “tale” was developing on the grand scale, he told himself.

“I have the privilege of knowing Mrs. and Miss Sherman,” replied the Duke, flushing under the keen scrutiny to which he was being subjected. “I have also the honor of being their host. They are staying, together with their friends the Sadgroves, at my place in Hertfordshire. I—I came down to meet you in the hope of inducing you to join them there.”

“Very good of you. May I ask how you