All at once Count Bunker started-- "That must be Hechnahoul!" said he.
The Baron looked and beheld, upon an eminence across the loch, the towers and turrets of an imposing mansion overtopping a green grove.
"And here is the station," added the Count.
The Baron's face assumed a piteous expression.
"Bonker," he stammered, "I--I am afraid! You be ze Tollyvoddle--I cannot do him!" "My dear Baron!" "Oh, I cannot!" "Be brave--for the honor of the fatherland.

Play the bold Blitzenberg!" "Ach, ja; but not bold Tollyvoddle.

Zat picture--you vere right--it vas omen!" Never did the genius of Bunker rise more audaciously to an occasion.
"My dear Baron," said he, assuming on the instant a confidence-inspiring smile, "that print was a hoax; it wasn't old Tulliwuddle at all.

I faked it myself." "So ?" gasped the Baron.

"You assure me truly ?" Muttering (the historian sincerely hopes) a petition for forgiveness, Bunker firmly answered-- "I do assure you!" The train had stopped, and as they were the only first-class passengers on board, a peculiarly magnificent footman already had his hand upon the door.