By the way, to go back to London, do you recollect where Mr Fastnet lived?
I should like to call on him." "You won't find him; he died before I went abroad--drank himself to death." "I'm sorry to hear that.

And you enlisted under your present name of Ratman, of course ?" "My present name is Ingleton.

If I called myself Ratman, that was because I didn't want my father to hear of me.

I never told any one my real name." "Seems to me," said the Mayor, "it's odd how your medical adviser on the field of battle found out where to write home to say you were dead." "It is still more odd, sir," said the tutor, fixing the claimant with his glass, "that this Mr Fastnet (who, you will be glad to hear, has also come to life again, was still in good health when my ward saw him a few weeks ago) retains a vivid recollection of the runaway son having entertained him for a year at his own lodgings; at the end of which time the prodigal, so far from enlisting, took to the stage, and spent another year, at least, with a company of strolling players.
"We have your unfortunate's nephew's story," proceeded the tutor, "carefully traced up to a certain point, and if either you or Mr Ratman are interested in the matter, we can produce our witnesses.

Your memory is a treacherous one, Robert Ratman.