flung her great arm round his frail shoulders. "It proves, my
venerable and otherwise distinguished dear, that I am right and you
are wrong."

"My good Ursula," said he, disengaging himself, "I have not advanced
one argument either in favour of, or in opposition to, one single
proposition the whole of this afternoon."

She shook her head at him pityingly.

The housekeeper entered carrying a double handful of odds and ends
which she laid on the library table--a watch and chain and
cornelian heart, a cigarette case bearing the initials "P.S.," some
keys, a very soiled handkerchief, a sovereign, a shilling and a
penny. Dr. Fuller had sent them down with his compliments; they were
the entire contents of the young gentleman's pockets.

"Not a card, not a scrap of paper with a name and address on it?"
cried Miss Winwood.

"Not a scrap, miss. The doctor and I searched most thoroughly."

"Perhaps the knapsack will tell us more," said the Archdeacon.

The knapsack, however, revealed nothing but a few toilet
necessaries, a hunk of stale bread and a depressing morsel of
cheese, and a pair of stockings and a shirt declared by the
housekeeper to be wet through. As the Beranger, like the Sir Thomas
Browne, was inscribed "Paul Savelli," which corresponded with the
initials on the cigarette case, they were fairly certain of the