“A vary vise idea, Bonker,” observed the Baron.

“What!” said Tulliwuddle.  “Do you mean that you would go and crack me up, and that sort of thing?”

“No; I mean that I should enjoy a temporary loan of your name and of your residence, and assure them by a personal inspection that I have a sufficient assortment of virtues for their requirements.”

“Splendid!” shouted the Baron.  “Tollyvoddle, accept zis generous offer before it is too late!”

“But,” gasped the diffident nobleman, “they would find out the next time they saw me.”

“If the business is properly arranged, that would only be when you came out of church with her.  Look here—­what fault have you to find with this scheme?  I produce the desired impression, and either propose at once and am accepted——­”

“H’m,” muttered Tulliwuddle doubtfully.

“Or I leave things in such good train that you can propose and get accepted afterwards by letter.”

“That’s better,” said Tulliwuddle.

“Then, by a little exercise of our wits, you find an excuse for hurrying on the marriage—­have it a private affair for family reasons, and so on.  You will be prevented by one excuse or another from meeting the lady till the wedding-day.  We shall choose a darkish church, you will have a plaster on your face—­and the deed is done!”

“Not a fault can I find,” commented the Baron sagely.  “Essington, I congratulate you.”

Between his complete confidence in Essington and the Baron’s unqualified commendation, Lord Tulliwuddle was carried away by the project.

“I say, Essington, what a good fellow you are!” he cried.  “You really think it will work?”

“What do you say, Baron?”

“It cannot fail, I do solemnly assure you.  Be thankful you have soch a friend, Tollyvoddle!”

“You don’t think anybody will suspect that you aren’t really me?”

“Does any one up at Hechnahoul know you?”

“No.”

“And no one there knows me.  They will never suspect for an instant.”

His lordship assumed a look that would have been serious, almost impressive, had he first removed his eye-glass.  Evidently some weighty consideration had occurred to him.

“You are an awfully clever chap, Essington,” he said, “and deuced superior to most fellows, and—­er—­all that kind of thing.  But—­well—­you don’t mind my saying it?”

“My morals?  My appearance?  Say anything you like, my dear fellow.”

“It’s only this, that noblesse oblige, and that kind of thing, you know.”

“I am afraid I don’t quite follow.”

“Well, I mean that you aren’t a nobleman, and do you think you could carry things off like a—­ah—­like a Tulliwuddle?”

Essington remained entirely serious.

“I shall have at my elbow an adviser whose knowledge of the highest society in Europe is, without exaggeration, unequalled.  Your perfectly natural doubts will be laid at rest when I tell you that I hope to be accompanied by the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg.”