“Very well, I will go; but I am glad you approve.”

“But what the deuce are you going to do about that fortune of yours?” asked the other suddenly.  “Don’t you think we had better go down and swear to you at once?  I may not be here when you get back, you know.”

“No; that would not suit my arrangements,” answered Claudius.  “I would rather not let it be known for what purpose I had gone.  Do you understand?  I am going ostensibly to Heidelberg to get my papers from the University, and so, with all thanks, I need not trouble you.”  The Duke looked at him for a moment.

“What a queer fellow you are, Claudius,” he said at last.  “I should think you would like her to know.”

“Why?  Suppose that I failed, what a figure I should cut, to be sure.”  Claudius preferred to attribute to his vanity an action which was the natural outcome of his love.

“Well, that is true,” said the Duke; “but I think you are pretty safe for all that.  Have some breakfast—­I forgot all about it.”

“No, thanks.  Are you going to Newport to-day?  I would like to see something outside of New York before I go back.”

“By all means.  Better go at once—­all of us in a body.  I know the Countess is ready, and I am sure I am.”

“Very good.  I will get my things together.  One word—­please do not tell them I am going; I will do it myself.

“All right,” answered the Duke; and Claudius vanished.  “He says ‘them,’” soliloquised the Englishman, “but he means ‘her.’”

Claudius found on his table a note from Mr. Screw.  This missive was couched in formal terms, and emitted a kind of phosphorescent wrath.  Mr. Screw’s dignity was seriously offended by the summary ejectment he had suffered at the Doctor’s hands on the previous day.  He gave the Doctor formal notice that his drafts would not be honoured until the executors were satisfied concerning his identity; and he solemnly and legally “regretted the position Dr. Claudius had assumed towards those whose sacred duty it was to protect the interests of Dr. Claudius.”  The cunning repetition of name conveyed the idea of two personages, the claimant and the real heir, in a manner that did not escape the Doctor.  Since yesterday he had half regretted having lost his temper; and had he known that Screw had been completely duped by Mr. Barker, Claudius would probably have apologised to the lawyer.  Indeed, he had a vague suspicion, as the shadow of a distant event, that Barker was not altogether clear of the business; and the fact that the latter had shown so little surprise on hearing of his friend’s sudden return to Europe had aroused the Doctor’s imagination, so that he found himself piecing together everything he could remember to show that Barker had an interest of some kind in removing him from the scene.  Nevertheless, the burden of responsibility for the annoyance he was now suffering seemed to rest with Screw, and Screw should be taught a great lesson; and to that end Claudius would write a letter.  It was clear he was still angry.