And Miss Fairfax, who knew everything, settled the point.
"Peter," she said, "is the great-grandson of Jack Blakeney, who was known as the Little Pimpernel, and was the Scarlet Pimpernel's eldest son. In face and figure he is the image of that wonderful portrait by Romney of Sir Percy Blakeney."
"Hurrah for me!" exclaimed the one who had been right, whilst the pretty girl with the shingled hair threw a glance at the handsome Roumanian, which conveyed an eloquent "So there!"
General Naniescu shrugged amiably.
"Ah!" he said, "now I understand. When one gets the youth of England on the subject of its Scarlet Pimpernel, one can only smile and hold one's tongue."
"I think," Miss Fairfax concluded, "that Peter is the best-looking and the best-dressed man in the hall to-night."
"You stab me to the heart, dear lady," the general protested with mock chagrin, "though I am willing to admit that the descendant of your national hero has much of his mother's good looks."
"Did you know Mrs. Blakeney, then?"
"Only by sight and before her marriage. She was a Hungarian lady of title, Baroness Heves," General Naniescu replied, with a shrug that had in it a vague suggestion of contempt. "I guessed that our young cricket player was her son from the way he wears the Hungarian national dress."
"I was wondering what the dress was," Lady Orange remarked vaguely, thankful that the conversation had drifted back to a more equable atmosphere. "It is very picturesque and very becoming."