“You think the same, Baron?”

“I do. Unless yet another impostor you have put forward. But that I will not believe. With me, your dealings most honourable have been.”

“Thank you, Baron. I shan’t forget those words. So you are all agreed?”

His eyes swept round the circle of waiting faces. Only Lemoine did not respond, but kept his eyes fixed sullenly on the table.

Anthony’s quick ears had caught the sound of footsteps outside in the hall.

“And yet, you know,” he said with a queer smile, “you’re all wrong!”

He crossed swiftly to the door and flung it open.

A man stood on the threshold⁠—a man with a neat black beard, eyeglasses, and a foppish appearance slightly marred by a bandage round the head.