"Yes, my lord."
"By whose orders?"
"Her Excellency's, my lord."
"That's the Marchesa—Marchesa di San Servolo," Wilbraham supplied.
"Yes, that's the name, sir," said Coltson respectfully.
"What about her complexion now, Ambrose?" chuckled Stabb.
"The Marchesa di San Servolo? Is that right, Coltson?"
"Perfectly correct, my lord. Italian, I understand, my lord."
"Excellent, excellent! She has closed my Beach Path? I think I have reflected enough for to-night. I'll go in and write a letter." He rose, smiled upon Stabb, who himself was grinning broadly, and walked through an open window into the house.
"Now you may see something happen," said Leonard Stabb.