alien about them in spite of their conventional clothes.

"Mr. Michael Varcoe!" said the bigger and older, he who stood on the left
of Smith. The other kept in the background, not to crowd with conspicuous
rudeness between Annesley and her host. The man who spoke had a thick
voice and a curious accent which the girl, with her small experience, was
unable to place.

"No," answered "Smith," in a puzzled tone. "You mistake me for someone
else."

"I think not," insisted the bearded man, in a hostile drawl. "I _think_
not!"

"I'm _sure_ not," echoed the other. "You are Michael Varcoe. There's no
getting away from that."

The emphasis seemed to add, "And no getting away from _us_."

Excitement stirred Annesley to courage. "Why, how horrid!" she exclaimed,
bending past the human obstacle; "people taking you for some _foreigner_!
I'm sure you can't be like a man with such a name as--Michael Varcoe!
Tell them who we are."

"My name is Nelson Smith," said her official husband. "My wife is
not----"

"Your wife!" repeated the man standing opposite Annesley. He stared with
insolent incredulity. "'Mr. and Mrs. Nelson Smith.' A good name to
take."