An embarrassing silence was broken by Hero, who undertook to divert the thoughts of the Home Secretary by asking:
“What do they think in the Home Office of the Legitimist Guild?”
CHAPTER VII
THE DECADENTS
It was some time after dinner when the Duke of Trent, faithful to his promise to their mother, drove up to the gate of Alistair’s house in Chelsea.
On the way James considered what line it would be best for him to take. He reckoned on finding the prodigal in a despondent mood, perhaps half estranged from the temptress already, under the stress of poverty and disgrace. If so, it should prove an easy task to appeal to him by the picture of the welcome awaiting him in Colonsay House. Alistair could not but be touched by his brother’s generosity—and James meant to be generous. He meant to say—to say a little condescendingly, perhaps, but kindly: “I take your debts on myself. Your name is cleared. Your mother and I only ask you not to forget that you have a home to come to when you like.”
By the time he had reached the house the Duke had half persuaded himself that he should be able to bring the repentant one away with him that very night.
The house was surrounded on all sides by a high brick wall, pierced at the entrance by a tall narrow gateway, the gate of Georgian ironwork. Ordering his coachman to wait, the Minister strode up a covered pathway that led to the door of the house, and knocked.
As he did so he was aware that the lower part of the house was brilliantly lit up. He caught a murmur of voices coming through the windows of a room which overlooked the front garden, and even heard what sounded like applause.
Before he could frame any explanation to himself of these sights and sounds the door was opened by a smart lad in a rather untidy page’s livery, who stared at the visitor with the vulgar impertinence of a servant who does not respect his employers.
At the same instant a loud burst of laughter came from the interior of the building.