"This fellow declares he's Sir Charles
Vandrift," he said sulkily. "Though, in fact, there are two of them.
And he accuses me of forgery, fraud, and theft, Bertie."
The attache stared hard at us. "This _is_ Sir Charles Vandrift," he
replied, after a moment. "I remember hearing him make a speech once
at a City dinner. And what charge have you to prefer, Sir Charles,
against my cousin?"
"Your cousin?" Charles cried. "This is Colonel Clay, the notorious
sharper!"
The attache smiled a gentlemanly and superior smile. "This is
Colonel Clay," he answered, "of the Bengal Staff Corps."
It began to strike us there was something wrong somewhere.
"But he has cheated me, all the same," Charles said--"at Nice two
years ago, and many times since; and this very day he has tricked me
out of two thousand pounds in French bank-notes, which he has now
about him!"
The Colonel was speechless. But the attache laughed. "What he has
done to-day I don't know," he said; "but if it's as apocryphal as
what you say he did two years ago, you've a thundering bad case,
sir; for he was then in India, and I was out there, visiting him."
"Where are the two thousand pounds?" Charles cried. "Why, you've got
them in your hand! You're holding the envelope!"
The Colonel produced it.
Pages:
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177