Thirst was upon him again; he drank the first liquor that came to hand, then sat down and was silent.

“You feel better?” said Gammon.

“Better?  Oh, thanks, much the same.  I shan’t be better till things are settled.  That won’t be long.  I expected to hear from Greenacre—­I think you said you knew Greenacre?”

“What is he doing for you?” Gammon inquired, thinking he might as well take advantage of this lucid moment, the result, seemingly, of alcoholic stimulation.

“Doing?  We’ll talk of that presently.  Mind you, I have complete confidence in Greenacre.  I regret that I didn’t know him long ago.”  He sighed and began to wander.  “My best years gone—­gone!  You remember what I was, Gammon?  We don’t live like other people, something wrong in our blood; we go down—­down.  But if I had lived as I was, and let the cursed title alone!  That was my mistake, Greenacre.  I had found happiness—­a good wife.  You know my wife?  What am I saying?  Of course you do.  Never an unkind word from her, never one.  How many men can say that?  The best woman living, Greenacre.”

“You keep forgetting who I am,” said his guest bluntly.

Lord Polperro gave him a look of surprise, and with effort cleared his thoughts.

“Ah, I called you Greenacre.  Excuse me, Gammon, my wife’s friend.  Be her friend still, a better woman doesn’t live, believe me.  You will lunch with me, Gammon.  We are to have a long talk.  And I want you to go with me to my solicitor’s.  I must settle that to-day.  I thought Greenacre would be back.  The fact is, you know, I must recover my health.  The south of Europe, Greenacre thinks, and I agree with him.  A place where we can live quietly, my wife and the little girl, no one to bother us or to gossip.  She shall know when we get there, not before.  This climate is bad for me, killing me; in fact, I hope to start in a few days, just us three, I and my wife and the little girl.  She shall use the title if she likes, if not we’ll leave it behind us.  Ah, that was my misfortune, you know.  It oughtn’t to have come to me.”

He was seized with a hiccough, which in a few moments became so violent that he had to abandon the attempt to converse.  When it had lasted for half an hour Gammon found his position intolerable.  He rose, meaning to leave the room and speak to the housekeeper, but just then the door opened to admit Lord Polperro’s medical attendant.  This gentleman, after a glance at the patient, who was not aware of his presence, put a few questions to Gammon.  The latter than withdrew quietly, went out from the flat and down into the street where the doctor’s carriage stood waiting.  He was bewildered with the novelty of experience, felt thoroughly out of his element, and would have liked to have escaped from these complications by simply taking a cab to Norton Folgate and forgetting all he left behind.  But his promise to Mrs. Clover (or Lady Polperro) forbade this.  He was very curious as to the proceedings of that mysterious fellow Greenacre, who, as likely as not, had got Lord Polperro into his power for rascally purposes.  What was that half-heard allusion to another wife, who might be alive or dead?  Nothing to cause astonishment assuredly, but the matter ought to be cleared up.