“Or yours, Charlie?”
Charlie took a hopeful view.
“Upon my honor, Laing, I’m glad you hid it.”
“Oh, I see!” cried Laing. “Tip for the wrong ‘un, eh, and too late to put it on now?”
“You’re not far off,” answered Charlie Ellerton.
“Roger, is it to-night that the General is going to take me to the——”
“Hush! Not before Miss Bellairs, my dear! Consider her filial feelings. You and the General must make a quiet bolt of it. We’re only going to the Palais-Royal.”
The arrival of fish brought a momentary pause, but the first mouthful was hardly swallowed when Arthur Laing started, hunted hastily for his eyeglass, and stuck it in his eye.
“Yes, it is them,” said he. “See, Charlie, that table over there. They’ve got their backs to us, but lean see ‘em in the mirror.”
“See who?” asked Charlie in an irritable tone.