Lord Charles groaned.
"Don't—don't, Ley!" he implored. "I know that phrase so well; you always were wont to use it when there was some particularly evil piece of business to be done in the old days. Frankly, I'm a reformed character, and I decline to aid and abet you in any further madness."
"This isn't madness," said Leycester;—"oh, keep outside a moment, Oliver, I don't want you;—this is not madness, Charlie; it's the sanest thing I've ever done in my life."
"I dare say."
"It is indeed. Look here! I am going up to London."
"I guessed that. Poor London!"
"Do stop and listen to me—I haven't a moment to spare. I want you to do a little delicate service for me."
"I decline. What is it?" retorts Lord Charles, inconsistently.
"It is very simple. I want you to deliver a note for me."
"Oh, come, you know! Won't one of the army of servants, who devour the land like locusts, serve your turn?"