Lieutenant Lapenotiere followed him. At the foot of the great staircase the Secretary turned.
"I may take it, sir, that we are not lightly disturbing his Lordship—who is an old man."
"The news is of great moment, sir. Greater could scarcely be."
The Secretary bent his head. As they went up the staircase Lieutenant Lapenotiere looked back and caught sight of the night-porter in the middle of the hall, planted there and gazing up, following their ascent.
On the first-floor landing they were met by a truly ridiculous spectacle. There emerged from a doorway on the left of the wide corridor an old gentleman clad in night-cap, night-shirt and bedroom slippers, buttoning his breeches and cursing vigorously; while close upon him followed a valet with dressing-gown on one arm, waistcoat and wig on the other, vainly striving to keep pace with his master's impatience.
"The braces, my lord—your Lordship has them forepart behind, if I may suggest—"
"Damn the braces!" swore the old gentleman. "Where is he? Hi, Tylney!" as he caught sight of the Secretary. "Where are we to go? My room, I suppose?"
"The fire is out there, my lord.…'Tis past three in the morning. But after sending word to awake you, I hunted round and by good luck found a plenty of promising embers in the Board Room grate. On top of these I've piled what remained of my own fire, and Dobson has set a lamp there—"
"You've been devilish quick, Tylney. Dressed like a buck you are, too!"
"Your Lordship's wig," suggested the valet.