"Was the man tall?" said Mrs. Milton, intently, "distinguished
looking? with a long, flaxen moustache? and spoke with a drawl?"

"Well," said the waiter, and thought. "His moustache, m'm, was
scarcely long--scrubby more, and young looking."

"About thirty-five, he was?"

"No, m'm. More like five and twenty. Not that."

"Dear me!" said Mrs. Milton, speaking in a curious, hollow voice,
fumbling for her salts, and showing the finest self-control. "It
must have been her YOUNGER brother--must have been."

"That will do, thank you," said Widgery, officiously, feeling
that she would be easier under this new surprise if the man were
dismissed. The waiter turned to go, and almost collided with
Dangle, who was entering the room, panting excitedly and with a
pocket handkerchief held to his right eye. "Hullo!" said dangle.
"What's up?"

"What's up with YOU?" said Phipps.

"Nothing--an altercation merely with that drunken ostler of
yours. He thought it was a plot to annoy him--that the Young Lady
in Grey was mythical. Judged from your manner. I've got a piece
of raw meat to keep over it. You have some news, I see?"

"Did the man hit you?" asked Widgery.