“I 'm your man,” said Conway, as he followed Sybella into the carriage. And away they drove.
CHAPTER XXIII. A BREAKFAST-TABLE
When, punctual to the appointed time, Charles Conway presented himself at Mr. Dunn's door, he learned to his astonishment that that gentleman had gone out an hour before to breakfast with the Chief Secretary in the Park.
“But I came by invitation to breakfast with your master,” said he.
“Possibly so,” said Clowes, scanning the simply clad soldier before him. “He never mentioned it to me; that's all I know.”
Conway stood for a moment, half uncertain what to say; then, with a quiet smile, he said, “Pray tell him that I was here,—my name is Conway.”
“As to the breakfast part of the matter,” said Clowes, who felt “rather struck” by something in the soldier's manner, as he afterwards expressed it, “I 'm just about to take mine; you might as well join me.”
Conway looked him full in the face,—such a stare was it as a man gives when he questions the accuracy of his own senses; a slight flush then rose to his cheek, and his lip curled, and then, with a saucy laugh that seemed to combat the passing irritation he was suffering, he said, “It's not a bad notion, after all; I'm your man.”
Now, though Mr. Clowes had anticipated a very different reception to his politeness, he said nothing, but led the way into his sanctum, trusting to the locality and its arrangement to have their due effect upon his guest. Indeed, in this respect, he did but fair justice to the comforts around him.