A Front of Brass by Fred M. White — Read

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Hubert was feeling calm and cool enough as he walked in the direction of the library. Fate was doing its worst so far as he was concerned, and there was even a certain grim curiosity as to what was going to happen next. At any rate he had fulfilled his mission so far as May was concerned. He was going to be exposed, it would be very unpleasant for Ellen Scarsdale, but Sir Bruce Leverton was a just man, and he would know how to lay the blame on the proper shoulders, Morton was pacing up and down the library in a fussy frame of mind. His dignity had been outraged; he did not feel that he was being properly treated by these people. For the most part he was a scheming, cunning little rascal, he knew now to take slights where business was concerned, but apart from that he had an exceedingly good opinion of himself and his social position. And here he was being treated like an impostor, and so to speak, put by for identification. He had not the slightest idea as to the real facts of the case. He had been tricked by a telephone message, and but for a trivial accident by this time he would have been far on his way to the North. As the door of the library opened he turned round angrily.

"Really, Sir Bruce." he said. "Considering that I have come all this distance for--"

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