Sweeps, labourers, milkmen, costermongers--all were impartially invested by the democratic bottle-boy with the rank and title of armigeri.

The present nobleman appeared to favour the aristocratic recreation of driving a cab or job-master's carriage, and, as he entered the room, he touched his hat, closed the door somewhat carefully, and then, without remark, handed me a note which bore the superscription "Dr.Stillbury." "You understand," I said, as I prepared to open the envelope, "that I am not Dr.Stillbury.He is away at present and I am looking after his patients." "It doesn't signify," the man replied.

"You'll do as well." On this, I opened the envelope and read the note, which was quite brief, and, at first sight, in no way remarkable.
"DEAR SIR," it ran, "Would you kindly come and see a friend of mine who is staying with me?
The bearer of this will give you further particulars and convey you to the house.

Yours truly, H.WEISS." There was no address on the paper and no date, and the writer was unknown to me.
"This note," I said, "refers to some further particulars.

What are they ?" The messenger passed his hand over his hair with a gesture of embarrassment.