"Gentleman, sir--General Bartholomew," said the hotel page.

"And who on earth is he?"

"Short, stout gentleman, sir, white whiskers."

"That's quite satisfactory then; I'll see him," said Hugh.

He found the General in the lounge.

"You're Hugh Alston," said the General. "I'd know you anywhere. You are
your father over again. I hope that you are as good a man."

"I wish I could think so," Hugh said, "but I can't!" He shook hands with
the General. He had a dim recollection of the old fellow, as one of his
father's friends, who in the old days, when he was a child, had come
down to Hurst Dormer; but the recollection was dim.

"How did you find me out here, sir?"

"Ah, ha! That's it--just a piece of luck! The name struck me--Alston--I
thought of George Alston. I said to myself, 'Can this be his boy?' And
you are, eh? George Alston, of Hurst Dormer."

The General rambled on, but he forgot to explain to Hugh how it was that
he had found him out at the Northborough Hotel, and presently Hugh
forgot to enquire, which was what the General wanted.

"You'll dine with me to-night, eh? I won't take no--understand. I want