manner that you were in some frightful difficulty. Have a cigaret."

"By Jove, Brock, you're a brick," cried Medcroft, shaking the other's
hand vigorously. At the same time his face expressed considerable
uncertainty and no little doubt as to the further welfare of his as yet
partially divulged proposition.

"It's easy to be a brick, my boy, if it involves no more than the
changing of a single letter in one's name. I'd like to attend the
convention, anyway," said Brock amiably.

"Well, you see, Brock," said Medcroft lamely, "I fear you don't quite
appreciate the situation. I want you to pose as Roxbury Medcroft."

"You--What do you mean?"

"I thought you'd find that a facer. That's just it: you are to go to
Vienna as Roxbury Medcroft, not as yourself. Ha, ha! Ripping, eh?"

"'Pon my soul, Rox, you are not in earnest?"

"Never more so."

"But, my dear fellow--"

"You won't do it? That's what your tone means," in despair.

"It isn't that, and you know it. I've got nothing to lose. It's you that
will have to suffer. You're known all over Europe. What will be said
when the trick is discovered? 'Gad, man!"