"Ah, no, sir, not so far as that. Only to--. There I must leave you, and
take the train for Windermere. I live on the banks of your beautiful
lake. Permettez-moi, monsieur," and with a movement that was a
combination of a shrug, a grimace and a bow, the stranger drew a
card-case from one of his pockets, and, extracting a card therefrom,
handed it to Ducie.

The Captain took it with a bow, and, sticking his glass in his eye,
read:--

_____________________________________
| |
| |
| M. PAUL PLATZOFF. |
| |
| |
|_Bon Repos, |
| Windermere._ |
|___________________________________|

The Captain in return handed over his pasteboard credential, and, this
solemn rite being accomplished, conversation was resumed on more easy
and agreeable terms.

"I daresay you are puzzling your brains as to my nationality," said
Platzoff, with a smile. "I am not an Englishman; that you can tell from
my accent. I am not a Frenchman, although I write 'monsieur' before my
name. Still less am I either a German or an Italian. Neither am I a
genuine Russian, although I look to Russia as my native country. In