Towards ten o'clock I received more than one hint from O'Grady that we had promised to take tea at the Place Vendôme; while I myself was manoeuvring to find out, if we were to adjourn for coffee, what prospect there might be of seeing Louisa Bellew in the drawing-room.
It was in that dusky twilight we sat, a time which seems so suited to the quiet enjoyment of one's claret with a small and chosen party; where intimacy prevails sufficiently to make conversation more a thing of choice than necessity; where each man can follow out his own path in thought and only let his neighbour have a peep here and there into his dreamings, when some vista opens, or some bold prospect stretches away. Next to the blazing fire of a winter's hearth, this is the pleasantest thing I know of. Thus was it, when the door opened, and a dusky outline of a figure appeared at the entrance.
'Is Master Phil here?' said a cranky voice there was no mistaking as Mr. Delany's.
'Yes, Corny. What's wrong? Anything new?'
'Where's the Captain?' said he in the same tone.
'I 'm here, Corny,' said L
'Well, there's them looking for you without,' said he, 'that'll maybe surprise you, pleasant as ye are now.'
A detestable effort at a laugh here brought on a fit of coughing that lasted a couple of minutes.
'Who is it?' said I. 'Where are they?'
A significant gesture with his thumb over his shoulder was the only reply to my question, while he barked out, 'Don't you see me coughing the inside out o' me?'