was a young man of distinguished appearance, the most conspicuous
items of whose attire were a dark Homburg hat and a long cape of
Continental cut.

Mr. Jones's heart missed a beat.

Throwing a searching glance around the compartment the stranger rapped
out, "There has been a lady in here?"

"No," replied Mr. Jones, on general principles.

For answer the stranger picked a cambric handkerchief off the floor.

"That's mine," said Mr. Jones hastily.

"Perhaps," was the sneering reply, "you will tell me also that the
child is yours."

"Certainly," said Mr. Jones, ruffled by his cross-examination; "it
always has been."

The stranger snorted contemptuously. "You are good at explanations.
Perhaps you can explain this."

Mr. Jones looked down at the baby's coat. To his amazement he beheld a
crown and monogram embroidered on it.

"That," he replied, taking refuge in fatuity, "is the laundry mark."

"Come, come, enough of this fooling. Give me the child."