Old Chiswick gave Bicky a searching look; then he turned to the water-supply chappie. He was frightfully calm.

“I can assure you that I know nothing of this,” he said, quite politely. “I should be grateful if you would explain.”

“Well, we arranged with Mr. Bickersteth that eighty-seven citizens of Birdsburg should have the privilege of meeting and shaking hands with you for a financial consideration mutually arranged, and what my friend Simms here means⁠—and I’m with him⁠—is that we have only Mr. Bickersteth’s word for it⁠—and he is a stranger to us⁠—that you are the Duke of Chiswick at all.”

Old Chiswick gulped.

“Allow me to assure you, sir,” he said, in a rummy kind of voice, “that I am the Duke of Chiswick.”