“What sort of looking man is Skinner?”

“Oh, stout, clean-shaven.  I like him.  He’s much more human than I thought butlers ever were.  Why?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Of course, you can’t go back to the house.  You see that?  He would say that you aren’t Jimmy Crocker and then you would be arrested.”

“I don’t see that.  If I am sufficiently like Crocker for his friends to mistake me for him in restaurants, why shouldn’t this butler mistake me, too?”

“But—?”

“And, consider.  In any case, there’s no harm done.  If he fails to recognise me when he opens the door to us, we shall know that the game is up:  and I shall have plenty of time to disappear.  If the likeness deceives him, all will be well.  I propose that we go to the house, ring the bell, and when he appears, I will say ’Ah, Skinner!  Honest fellow!’ or words to that effect.  He will either stare blankly at me or fawn on me like a faithful watchdog.  We will base our further actions on which way the butler jumps.”

The sound of the bell died away.  Footsteps were heard.  Ann reached for Jimmy’s arm and—­clutched it.

“Now!” she whispered.

The door opened.  Next moment Jimmy’s suspicion was confirmed.  Gaping at them from the open doorway, wonderfully respectable and butlerlike in swallow-tails, stood his father.  How he came to be there, and why he was there, Jimmy did not know.  But there he was.

Jimmy had little faith in his father’s talents as a man of discretion.  The elder Crocker was one of those simple, straight forward people who, when surprised, do not conceal their surprise, and who, not understanding any situation in which they find themselves, demand explanation on the spot.  Swift and immediate action was indicated on his part before his amazed parent, finding him on the steps of the one house in New York where he was least likely to be, should utter words that would undo everything.  He could see the name Jimmy trembling on Mr. Crocker’s lips.

He waved his hand cheerily.

“Ah, Skinner, there you are!” he said breezily.  “Miss Chester was telling me that you had left my step-mother.  I suppose you sailed on the boat before mine.  I came over on the Caronia.  I suppose you didn’t expect to see me again so soon, eh?”

A spasm seemed to pass over Mr. Crocker’s face, leaving it calm and serene.  He had been thrown his cue, and like the old actor he was he took it easily and without confusion.  He smiled a respectful smile.

“No, indeed, sir.”

He stepped aside to allow them to enter.  Jimmy caught Ann’s eye as she passed him.  It shone with relief and admiration, and it exhilarated Jimmy like wine.  As she moved towards the stairs, he gave expression to his satisfaction by slapping his father on the back with a report that rang out like a pistol shot.

“What was that?” said Ann, turning.

“Something out on the Drive, I think,” said Jimmy.  “A car back-firing, I fancy, Skinner.”