“The very remark I made, sir. The very thing I said to Lord Snaresby. I might have been dabbling in those Yankee securities, and got hit just as hard.”
Sir William made a wry face, and turned away. He hoped that Captain Holmes had not overheard the allusion; but the Captain was deep in “Galignani,” and heard nothing.
“It is this,” continued Stocmar, “recalls me so suddenly to England. We open on the 24th, and I give you my word of honor we have neither tenor, basso, nor barytone engaged, nor am I quite sure of my prima donna.”
“Who ever was?” whispered Mrs. Morris, slyly; and then added aloud, “Come now, and let me present Clara to you. We'll return presently, Sir William.” And, so saying, she slipped her arm within Stocmar's and led him away.
“Who is that Captain Holmes?” asked he, as they walked along.
“Oh, a nobody; an old muff.”
“Is he deaf, or is it mere pretence?”
“Deaf as a post.”
“I know his face perfectly. I 've seen him about town for years back.”
“Impossible! He has been collecting revenue, distressing Talookdars, or Ryots, or whatever they are, in India, these thirty-odd years. It was some one you mistook for him.” She had her hand on the lock of the door as she said this. She paused before opening it, and said, “Remember, you are her guardian,—your word is law.” And they entered.