He stood a moment bereft of earthy consciousness by his exaltation; then consciousness returned, bringing him a slight shock, and he said with grave earnestness: 

“I must ask you to pardon me, Major Hawkins.  I have never used that expression before, and I beg you will forgive it this time.”

Hawkins was quite willing.

“You see, Washington, it is an error which I am by nature not liable to.  Only excitable people, impulsive people, are exposed to it.  But the circumstances of the present case—­I being a democrat by birth and preference, and an aristocrat by inheritance and relish—­”

The earl stopped suddenly, his frame stiffened, and he began to stare speechless through the curtainless window.  Then he pointed, and gasped out a single rapturous word: 

“Look!”

“What is it, Colonel?”

“It!”

“No!”

“Sure as you’re born.  Keep perfectly still.  I’ll apply the influence—­ I’ll turn on all my force.  I’ve brought It thus far—­I’ll fetch It right into the house.  You’ll see.”

He was making all sorts of passes in the air with his hands.

“There!  Look at that.  I’ve made It smile!  See?”

Quite true.  Tracy, out for an afternoon stroll, had come unexpectantly upon his family arms displayed upon this shabby house-front.  The hatchments made him smile; which was nothing, they had made the neighborhood cats do that.

“Look, Hawkins, look!  I’m drawing It over!”

“You’re drawing it sure, Rossmore.  If I ever had any doubts about materialization, they’re gone, now, and gone for good.  Oh, this is a joyful day!”

Tracy was sauntering over to read the door-plate.  Before he was half way over he was saying to himself, “Why, manifestly these are the American Claimant’s quarters.”

“It’s coming—­coming right along.  I’ll slide, down and pull It in.  You follow after me.”

Sellers, pale and a good deal agitated, opened the door and confronted Tracy.  The old man could not at once get his voice:  then he pumped out a scattering and hardly coherent salutation, and followed it with—­

“Walk in, walk right in, Mr.—­er—­”

“Tracy—­Howard Tracy.”

“Tracy—­thanks—­walk right in, you’re expected.”

Tracy entered, considerably puzzled, and said: 

“Expected?  I think there must be some mistake.”

“Oh, I judge not,” said Sellers, who—­noticing that Hawkins had arrived, gave him a sidewise glance intended to call his close attention to a dramatic effect which he was proposing to produce by his next remark.  Then he said, slowly and impressively—­“I am—­you know who.”

To the astonishment of both conspirators the remark produced no dramatic effect at all; for the new-comer responded with a quite innocent and unembarrassed air—­

“No, pardon me.  I don’t know who you are.  I only suppose—­but no doubt correctly—­that you are the gentleman whose title is on the doorplate.”