She gave even an air of elegance to the faded, worn adornments of the room, which it is to be feared it never possessed in Miss Kitty's occupancy.

Again she glanced at the clock.

There was a tap at the door.
"Come in." The door opened to a Chinese servant bearing a piece of torn paper with a name written on it in lieu of a card.
Mrs.Horncastle took it, glanced at the name, and handed the paper back.
"There must be some mistake," she said, "it do not know Mr.Steptoe." "No, but you know ME all the same," said a voice from the doorway as a man entered, coolly took the Chinese servant by the elbows and thrust him into the passage, closing the door upon him.

"Steptoe and Horncastle are the same man, only I prefer to call myself Steptoe HERE.

And I see YOU'RE down on the register as 'Horncastle.' Well, it's plucky of you, and it's not a bad name to keep; you might be thankful that I have always left it to you.