"Sir Alexander and I are old friends," said he. "We served in the same regiment once together, and I can venture to present you, even at this early hour;" and with that we walked briskly on towards the Legation.
All this while Morris—I can't call him by his new name yet—never alluded to the family; he did n't even ask after James, and I plainly saw that he was bent on doing a very good-natured thing, without any desire to incur further intimacy as its consequence.
Sir Alexander had not left his room when we arrived, but on receiving Morris's card sent word to say he should be down in a moment, and expected us both at breakfast. The table was spread in a handsome library, with every possible appliance of comfort about it. There was a brisk wood-fire blazing on the ample hearth, and a beautiful Blenheim asleep before it. Newspapers of every country and every language lay scattered about with illustrated journals and prints. Most voluptuous easy-chairs and fat-cushioned sofas abounded, and it was plain to see that the world has some rougher sides than she turns to her Majesty's Envoys and Ministers Plenipotentiary!
I was busy picturing to myself what sort of person the present occupant of this post was likely to prove, when he entered. A tall, very good-looking man, of about forty, with bushy whiskers of white hair; his air and bearing the very type of frankness, and his voice the rich tone of a manly speaker. He shook me cordially by the hand as Morris introduced me, apologized for keeping us waiting, and at once seated us at table. A sickly-looking lad, with sore eyes and a stutter, slipped unobtrusively in after him, and he was presented to us as Lord Adolphus de Maudley, the unpaid Attaché.
Leaving all to Morris, and rightly conjecturing that he would open the subject we came upon at the fitting time, I attacked a grouse-pie most vigorously, and helped myself freely to his Excellency's Bordeaux. There were all manner of good things, and we did them ample justice, even to the Unpaid himself, who certainly seemed to take out in prog what they denied him in salary.
Sir Alexander made all the running as to talk. He rattled away about Turks and Russians,—affairs home and foreign,—the Ministry and the Opposition,—who was to go next to some vacant embassy, and who was to be the prima donna at the Pergola. Then came Florence gossip,—an amusing chapter; but perhaps—as they say in the police reports—not quite fit for publication. His Excellency had seen the girls at the races, and complimented me on their good looks, and felicitated the city on the accession of so much beauty. At last Morris broke ground, and related the story of Mrs. D.'s captivity. Sir Alex—who had by this time lighted his cigar—stood with his hands in his dressing-gown pockets, and his back to the fire, the most calm and impassive of listeners.
"They are so stupid, these people," said he at last, puffing his weed between each word; "won't take the trouble to look before them—won't examine—won't investigate—a charge. Mrs. Dodd a Catholic too?"
"A most devout and conscientious one!" said I.
"Great bore for the moment, no doubt; but—try a cheroot, they 're milder—but, as I was saying, to be amply recompensed hereafter. There's nothing they won't do in the way of civility and attention to make amends for this outrage."
"Meanwhile, as to her liberation?" said Morris.