In spite of the Spartan transformation which Sir Justin's bedroom had undergone, our adventurer enjoyed an excellent night's rest.

So fast asleep was he at the hour of eight next morning that it took him a few seconds to awake to the full possession of his faculties, even when disturbed by a loud exclamation at his bedside.

He then became aware of the presence of an entire stranger in his room--a tall and elderly man, with a long nose and a grizzled beard.

This intruder had apparently just drawn up the blind, and was now looking about him with an expression of the greatest concern.
"Mackenzie!" he cried, in the voice of one accustomed to be heard with submission, "What have you been doing to my room ?" The butler, too confused for coherent speech, was in the act of bringing in a small portmanteau.
"I--I mentioned, Sir Justin, your room was hardly ready for ye, sir.
Perhaps, sir, if ye'd come into the pink room----" "What the deuce, there's hardly a stick of furniture left! And whose clothes are these ?" "Mine," answered the Count suavely.
The stranger started violently, and turned upon the bed an eye at first alarmed, then rapidly becoming lit with indignation.
"Who--who is this ?" he shouted.
"That, sir--that----" stammered Mackenzie.
"Is Count Bunker," said the Count, who remained entirely courteous in spite of the inconvenience of this intrusion.

"Have I the pleasure of addressing Sir Justin Wallingford ?" "You have, sir." "In that case, Mackenzie will be able to give you a satisfactory account of my presence; and in half an hour or so I shall have the pleasure of joining you downstairs." The Count, with a polite smile, turned over in bed, as though to indicate that the interview was now at an end.