The letter was signed “Gerome Chanet.”
“Umph!” exclaimed the earl, “a nice, amiable sort of person to meet; but, however, I suppose there is no other way than seeing the young ruffian.”
“What answer am I to take back?” inquired the boy.
“What answer, my lad? Oh, I haven’t time to write any reply, but you can tell him I will be there at the appointed time.”
“You will be there?”
“Most certainly I will. Here is something for yourself.”
He handed the boy a silver coin, which he at first refused. After a little pressing, however, he consented to accept the proffered gratuity.
He then scampered off like a mountain goat, and was soon lost to sight.
“I don’t like the business,” muttered the earl, “and it strikes me that I shall get myself into trouble. An injured parent or a despairing lover is a dangerous person at the best of times, and from all accounts this young fellow is a sort of fire-eater. Well, I will hear what he has to say.”
Shortly before the specified time Lord Ethalwood started off in the direction of the lime-tree named in Chanet’s note.