"No; no none will do but yourself. I want this note delivered, at once. And I don't want anyone but our two selves to know anything about it; I don't want it to be carried about in one of the servant's pockets for an hour or two."
Lord Charles stretched his legs and shook his head.
"Look here, Ley, isn't this rather too 'thin?'" he remonstrated. "Of course it's to someone of the gentler sex!"
Leycester smiled.
"You are wrong," he said, with a smile. "Where's the Bradshaw, Oliver!" and he opened the door. "Put out the note-paper, and then tell them to get a dogcart to take me to the station."
"You will want me, my lord?"
"No, I am going alone. Look sharp!"
Oliver put out the writing materials and departed, and Leycester sat down and stared for a moment at the crested paper.
"Shall I go?" asked Lord Charles, ironically.
"No, I don't mean to lose sight of you, old fellow," replied Leycester. "Sit where you are."