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A smell of breakfast smote his nostrils pleasantly.

It was the work of a moment to dash into the house, wash, shave, and—there, upon a snowy bed, were laid the very clothes in which—long years ago—he had been captured.

In another moment he was in them and dashing downstairs, doing up the buttons as he went.

He flung himself, panting, into the breakfast-room.

The glorious girl looked up from her bacon with a cry.

Tomb started to his feet.

The young man opened his mouth.

"Ermyntrude!" he called.

"Wencheslaus!" she exclaimed.

For once Tomb's cool courage failed him.—He started back.

The sweethearts were in each other's arms.

"Listen," said Tomb, when he regained his breath; and they, gazing into each other's eyes, listened.

"Gaze elsewhere," said Tomb, "and I will unfold a tale."

In the heat of the moment he put his sleeve into the butter.

Ermyntrude sprang to his assistance. Tomb enfolded her in his embrace.

"This lady is my daughter," he said, turning to Wencheslaus, who stood amazed.

"I will not bother you with the story," said Tomb, "but five and forty years ago I wooed and wed her lovely mother. Twenty-one years ago to-day Ermyntrude was born, and her mother, after lingering two years, died. Leaving the girl in the care of an honest fishwife (when I say honest, I mean, as honest as her profession allowed), I roamed the seas as a Pirate: sorrow made me merciless. Then, when I wished to return to my daughter, I found that I had lost her address."

"Father!" said Ermyntrude.

"My daughter," he exclaimed, "I am a careless man!"

"And I?" said Wencheslaus—"what is the secret of my birth?"

Going up to him, Tomb, with one superb movement, bared the youth's arm. Upon it was tattooed, in gold and purple, the crest of a noble family.

"As I thought!" exclaimed Tomb; then he removed his hat. "Lord Wencheslaus of When-cheeselawn!"

"Then my father was . . ." the youth began.

"The Duke of Thingamaroo," said Tomb, bowing low.

A cry sounded from the cellars of the cottage.

Tomb again