The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1916-11-10

 which was there at the moment.
 "Fawney seeing you after all these years,'' he mumbled weakly to no one in particular.
 Speak up!' said Spencer Meyrick sharply.
 "Who is it you're talking to?''
 'aTo him." explained George, nodding toward Lord Narrowly. ITO my brother Allan Don't you, know me, Allan? Don't you know
 He stopped. An expression of sur- prise and relief swept over his worried face. He turned triumphantly to Trim mer.
 q don't have to prove who am to him." he announced.
 "Why don't you?" demanded Trimr mer in alarm.
 Because he can't, fancy" put in Lord Narrowly.
 tNo," said George slowly, because I never saw him before in all my life.'
 "Ah, you admit itr' cried, Allan Har- rowby with relief.
 "Of course I do,' replied George T never saw you before in my life.''
 And you've never been at Rake dale Hall, have you?" Lord Harrow by demanded.
 "Here-wait a minute!' shouted Trimmer, in a panic.
 'Oh, yes, I've been at Rakadale HaH,' said the claimant firmly. T spent my hoyhood there. But you've never been there" "I-what''- You've never been at Rakedale Hall. Why? Because you're not Al Ian Narrowly! That's why A deathly silence fell. Only little travelling clock on the mantel was ar ueulate.
 Absurd, ridiculous" cried Lord Har- l rowby. "Talk about impostors," cried George, his spirit and his courage sweeping back, you're one yourself! wish I'd got good look at you sooner I'd have put stop to all this.5 Allan Har- l roWby, eh? I guess not. I guess I'd know my own brother if I saw him. I guess know the Narrowly features. l give you twentyfours hours to get cut of town, you blooming fraud!" '"The mans crazy" Allan Narrowly l cried. Having mad He's an i'm postor. This is a trick of his." He looked helplessly around the circle. In l every face he saw doubt, questioning. Good heavens, you're not going to lis ten to him? He's come here to prove that he's George Narrowly. Why 1 doesn't he do it?" l "I'n do it." said George sweetly. i'when I meet real Harrowby In the meantime give you twenty -four hours l to get out of town. You'd better go." Victorious, George turned toward the door. Trimmer, lost between admira- ton and doubt, turned also.
 "Take my advice" George proclaim ! ed. Make him prove who hefs. That is the important point now. What does it matter to you who I am? Nothing. But it matters lot about ! him. Make him prove that he's Allan Harrowby.''
 And with the imperious manner that he should have adopted on entering the room George Narrowly left 1t. MT. Trimmer, eelipsed for once, trotted at his side.
 Say cried Trimmer in the hall, lis that on the level? Isn't he Allan liar rowby?'
 q should say not" said George grandly. Doesn't look anything like Allan"
 Trimmer chortled in gIee.
 "Great stuffr' he cried. T guess we tossed bomb, eh? Now we'll run him out of toWn.'
 'Oh, mo-" said George. "We've done our work here. Let's go over to Lon, don now and sec the pater.'
 "That we will" cried Trimmer -that we will By gad. I'm proud you today, Lord Harrowby."
 Inside Allan Harrowby's suit thrc pairs of questioning eyes were turne on that harassed noblcnlon He fidgc | cd in his chair- (To Be ContinueIA