There Are Strangers in the Caves

The building in St. James' Street had made great advance since last he saw it, but he observed to his satisfaction that the entrance to the subterranean passages were not absolutely closed, and he did not doubt that many of the old night-hawks were still in possession. His astonishment, therefore, was considerable when, upon dropping into the first of the passages, a figure sprang up and clutched him by the throat, while a hand thrust a lantern into his face and a pair of black eyes regarded him with amazed curiosity.

"A slap-up toff, so help me Jimmy! And what may your Royal Highness be doing this way--what brings you to this pretty parlor? Now, speak up, my lad, or it will go queer with you."

Alban knew in an instant--his long experience taught him--that he had fallen into the hands of the police, and his first alarms were very real.

"What right have you to question me?"

"Oh, we'll show our right sharp enough. Now, you be brisk--what's your name and what are you doing here?"

"I am the son of Mr. Richard Gessner of Hampstead and I used to know this place. I came down to have a look at it before the building is finished. If you doubt me, let us go to Mr. Gessner's house together and he will tell you who I am."

It was a proud thing to say and he said it with pride. That thrill of satisfaction which attends a fine declaration of identity came to Alban then as it has done to many a great man in the hour of his vanity. The son of Richard Gessner--yes, his patron would acknowledge him for that! The police themselves admitted the title by almost instant capitulation.