Philosopher, teacher, and martyr." For a minute he stared in rapt amazement, and then sharply rang the bell.
"Hang it," he said to himself, "I must throw a little light on this somehow!" Presently the elderly man-servant appeared, this time in a state of still more obvious confusion.

For a moment he stared at the Count--who was too discomposed by his manner to open his lips--and then, once more stretching out his hand, exclaimed in a choked voice and a strong Scotch accent-- "How are ye, Bunker!" "What the deuce!" shouted the Count, evading the proffered hand-shake with an agile leap.
The poor fellow turned scarlet, and in an humble voice blurted out-- "She told me to do it! Miss Julia said ye'd like me to shake hands and just ca' ye plain Bunker.

I beg your pardon, sir; oh, I beg your pardon humbly!" The Count looked at him keenly.
"He is evidently telling the truth," he thought.
Thereupon he took from his pocket half a sovereign.
"My good fellow," he began.

"By the way, what's your name ?" "Mackenzie, sir." "Mackenzie, my honest friend, I clearly perceive that Miss Wallingford, in her very kind efforts to gratify my unconventional tastes, has put herself to quite unnecessary trouble.

She has even succeeded in surprising me, and I should be greatly obliged if you would kindly explain to me the reasons for her conduct, so far as you can." At this point the half-sovereign changed hands.
"In the first place," resumed the Count, "what is the meaning of this remarkably villainous portrait labelled with my name ?" "That, sir," stammered Mackenzie, greatly taken aback by the inquiry.
"Why, sir, that's the famous Count Bunker--your uncle, sir, is he no' ?" Bunker began to see a glimmer of light, though the vista it illumined was scarcely a much pleasanter prospect than the previous bank of fog.
He remembered now, for the first time since his journey north, that the Baron, in dubbing him Count Bunker, had encouraged him to take the title on the ground that it was a real dignity once borne by a famous personage; and in a flash he realized the pitfalls that awaited a solitary false step.
"THAT my uncle!" he exclaimed with an air of pleased surprise, examining the portrait more attentively; "by Gad, I suppose it is! But I can't say it is a flattering likeness.