The Captain leant back on his chair and began to pick his teeth with a silver toothpick.
"Pooh, these novices!" said he, as if to himself. "Keep your nerves steady, my Lord, or, stab me, I may as well order the mourning-coach before we start. He, he! 'Tis well, indeed, you have a friend to stand by you!"
A discreet tap was heard at the door, and Lord Verney's impassive new servant (especially engaged on his behalf by the Captain, who indeed, some ill-natured wag had it, shared his wages and perquisites) stood in the doorway.
"There is a lady downstairs, my Lord," he said in his mechanical voice. "She particularly requests to see your Lordship and will take no denial, although I informed her that your Lordship was like to be engaged until late in the morning."
Lord Verney merely stared in amazement; but Captain Spicer sprang up from his chair, his pale eyes starting with curiosity.
"A lady, gad! Verney, you dog, what is this? A lady, Ned? Stay, is she tall and fair and slight?"
"No, sir, she is under-sized, and seems plump, though she is wrapt in so great a cloak I could hardly tell."
"Pretty, man?"
"Cannot say, sir, she wears a mask."
"A mask? He, Verney, Verney, this is vastly interesting! And she won't go away, eh, Ned?"