"And then you went abroad, I think you said?"
"Just so; that's where you died, is it not? You stayed in London long enough to go to the dogs, I understood you to say?"
"That didn't take long. I spent all my money in six months, and then enlisted," said Ratman, feeling fairly launched by this time.
"Quite so. And you died, I believe, in India?"
"I was supposed to have died in a skirmish; and they sent news home that I had. I never corrected it."
"Whereabouts was the skirmish, if it's a fair question?"
"That's unfortunate. By the way, to go back to London, do you recollect where Mr Fastnet lived? I should like to call on him."
"You won't find him; he died before I went abroad--drank himself to death."
"I'm sorry to hear that. And you enlisted under your present name of Ratman, of course?"
"My present name is Ingleton. If I called myself Ratman, that was because I didn't want my father to hear of me. I never told any one my real name."
"Seems to me," said the Mayor, "it's odd how your medical adviser on the field of battle found out where to write home to say you were dead."
"It is still more odd, sir," said the tutor, fixing the claimant with his glass, "that this Mr Fastnet (who, you will be glad to hear, has also come to life again, was still in good health when my ward saw him a few weeks ago) retains a vivid recollection of the runaway son having entertained him for a year at his own lodgings; at the end of which time the prodigal, so far from enlisting, took to the stage, and spent another year, at least, with a company of strolling players.
"We have your unfortunate's nephew's story," proceeded the tutor, "carefully traced up to a certain point, and if either you or Mr Ratman are interested in the matter, we can produce our witnesses. Your memory is a treacherous one, Robert Ratman. It is no use asking you, I fear, what became of you after a certain riot in Boulogne when you, as the Ghost in `Hamlet,' and your fellow-tragedians were mobbed for not paying the rent of your hall?"
Mr Ratman, who during this cross-examination had passed through all the stages from blustering rage to abject discomfiture, sank back on his chair and turned a livid face to his questioner. He had sense enough to see that the game was up; and not being an actor himself, he was at a loss to conceal his defeat. The tutor's cold, keen gaze took the heart out of him.