you?"

There's a quick shiver runs through the man against the rail, and he
lifts his eyes up cringin', like he expected to be hit with a club.
Mr. Robert takes one look, and it almost staggers him. Next he reaches
out, gets a firm grip on the gent's collar, and drags him out into a
better light, twistin' the whiskered face up for a close inspection.

"Blashford!" says he, hissin' it out unpleasant. "Bunny Blashford!"

"No, no!" says the gent, tryin' to squirm away. "You--you've made a
mistake."

"Not much!" says Mr. Robert. "I know those sneaking eyes of yours too
well."

"All right," says he; "but--but don't hit me, Bob. Don't."

"You--you cur!" says Mr. Robert, holding him at arm's length and
glarin' at him hostile.

"A ringer, eh?" says I.

"Worse than that," says Mr. Robert, "a sneaking, contemptible hound!
Trying to pass yourself off for Melly, were you?" he goes on. "Of all
men, Melly! What for?"

"I--I didn't want you to know I was back," whines Bunny. "And I had to
get money somehow, Bob--honest, I did."