“What happened?” I asked.     

       Kinney was wearing his hat. He took it off and hurled it to the floor.     

       “It was that damned hat!” he cried. “It’s a Harvard ribbon, all right, but only men on the crew can wear it! How was I to know THAT? I saw Aldrich looking at it in a puzzled way, and when he said, ‘I see you are on the crew,’ I guessed what it meant, and said I was on last year’s crew. Unfortunately HE was on last year’s crew! That’s what made him suspect me, and after dinner he put me through a third degree. I must have given the wrong answers, for suddenly he jumped up and called me a swindler and an impostor. I got back by telling him he was a crook and that I was a detective, and that I had sent a wireless to have him arrested at New Bedford. He challenged me to prove I was a detective, and, of course, I couldn’t, and he called up two stewards and told them to watch me while he went after the purser. I didn’t fancy being watched, so I came here.”      

       “When did you tell him I was the Earl of Ivy?”      

       Kinney ran his fingers through his hair and groaned dismally.     

       “That was before the boat started,” he said; “it was only a joke. He didn’t seem to be interested in my conversation, so I thought I’d liven it up a bit by saying I was a friend of Lord Ivy’s. And you happened to pass, and I happened to remember Mrs. Shaw saying you looked like a British peer, so I said: ‘That is my friend Lord Ivy.’ I said I was your secretary, and he seemed greatly interested, and—” Kinney added dismally, “I talked too much. I am SO sorry,” he begged. “It’s going to be awful for you!” His eyes suddenly lit with hope. “Unless,” he whispered,       “we can escape!”      

       The same thought was in my mind, but the idea was absurd, and impracticable. I knew there was no escape. I knew we were sentenced at sunrise to a most humiliating and disgraceful experience. The newspapers would regard anything that concerned Lord Ivy as news. In my turn I also saw the hideous head-lines. What would my father and mother at Fairport think; what would my old friends there think; and, what was of even greater importance, how would Joyce & Carboy act? What chance was there left me, after I had been arrested as an impostor, to become a stenographer in the law courts—in time, a member of the bar? But I found that what, for the 

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