At last his prison door was again thrown open, this time by Sir Justin himself.

“Come in, my dear,” he said in a grave voice; and with a downcast eye and scarlet cheek the fair Julia met her guest again.

Her father closed the door, and they seated themselves before their prisoner, who, after a profound obeisance to the lady, faced them from the edge of his bed with an air of more composure than he felt.

“I await your explanation, Sir Justin,” he began, striking at once the note which seemed to him (so far as he could guess) most likely to be characteristic of an innocent and much-injured man.

“You shall have it,” said Sir Justin grimly.  “Julia, you asked this person to my house under the impression that he was the nephew of that particularly obnoxious fanatic, Count Herbrand Bunker, and still engaged upon furthering his relative’s philanthropic and other visionary schemes.”

“But isn’t he——­” began Julia with startled eyes.

“I am Count Bunker,” said our hero firmly.

“The nephew in question?” inquired Sir Justin.

“Certainly, sir.”

Again Sir Justin turned to his daughter.

“I have already told you what I think of your conduct under any circumstances.  What your feelings will be I can only surmise when I inform you that I have detained this adventurer here until I had time to despatch a wire and receive an answer from Scotland Yard.”

Both Count and Julia started.

“What, sir!” exclaimed Bunker.

Quite unmoved by his protest, his captor continued, this time addressing him—­

“My memory, fortunately, is unusually excellent, and when you told me this morning who you were related to, I recalled at once something I had heard of your past career.  It is now confirmed by the reply I received to my telegram.”

“And what, Sir Justin, does Scotland Yard have to say about me?”

“Julia,” said her parent, “this unhappy young man did indeed profess for some time a regard for his uncle’s teachings, and even, I believe, advocated them in writing.  In this way he obtained the disposal of considerable funds contributed by unsuspicious persons for ostensibly philanthropic purposes.  About two years ago these funds and Count Bunker simultaneously disappeared, and your estimable guest was last heard of under an assumed name in the republic of Uruguay.”

Uncomfortable as his predicament was, this picture of himself as the fraudulent philanthropist was too much for Bunker’s sense of humor, and to the extreme astonishment of his visitors he went off into a fit of laughter so hearty and prolonged that it was some time before he recovered his gravity.

“My dear friends,” he exclaimed at last, “I am not that Bunker at all!  In fact I was only created a few weeks ago.  Bring me back my clothes, and in return I’ll tell you a deuced sight funnier story even than that.”