“And he may have the turn-out at his own price after the trial,” muttered Lord Claude, with a quiet smile.
“Egad! I should think so,” whispered Cavendish; “for, assuredly, I should never think of being seen in it again.”
“If Sir Spencer Cavendish has no objection,—if he would permit his groom to drive me just down the Boulevards and the Rue Rivoli—”
The cool stare of the baronet did not permit him to finish. It was really a look far more intelligible than common observers might have imagined, for it conveyed something like recognition,—a faint approach to an intimation that said, “I 'm persuaded that we have met before.”
“Yes, that is the best plan. Let the groom have the ribbons,” said Martin, laughing with an almost schoolboy enjoyment of a trick. “And don't lose time, Merl, for Sir Spencer would n't miss his drive in the Champs Elysees for any consideration.”
“Gentlemen, I am your very humble and much obliged servant!” said Cavendish, as soon as Merl had quitted the room. “If that distinguished friend of yours should not buy my carriage—”
“But he will,” broke in Martin; “he must buy it.”
“He ought, I think,” said Lord Claude. “If I were in his place, there's only one condition I 'd stipulate for.”
“And that is—”
“That you should drive with him one day—one would be enough—from the Barrière de l'Étoile to the Louvre.”