"I misunderstood your name last evening," he said. "I thought you were
Count Ferralti."

"And that is right, sir," was the prompt reply. "Allow me to offer you
my card."

Uncle John took the card and read:

"CONTE LEONARDI FERRALTI,
Milano, Italia."

He carefully placed the card in his pocket-book.

"Thank you," said he. "It's a fine morning, Count."

"Charming, Mr. Merrick."

Uncle John walked away. He was glad that he had not suspected the young
man unjustly. When an imposture is unmasked it is no longer dangerous.

He joined his nieces, who were all busily engaged in writing letters
home, and remarked, casually:

"You've been deceived in your Italian friend, Louise. He is neither a
count nor of noble family, although I suppose when you met him in New
York he had an object in posing as a titled aristocrat."

The girl paused, examining the point of her pen thoughtfully.

"Are you sure, Uncle John?"