“Cela va sans dire. I never knew one that was not. At all events, you can disguise yourself.”
“Anything, madam, from Grandfather Whitehead to a boy in a pinafore. Famous for my make-ups.”
“I wish you to watch a certain house, and not be recognized by a person who knows you.”
“Well, madam, nothing is infra dig, if done for you; nothing is distasteful if done for you.”
“Thank you, my friend. I have thought it well to put my instructions on paper.”
“Ay, that is the best way.”
She handed him the instructions. He read them, and his eyes sparkled. “Ah, this is a commission I undertake with pleasure, and I'll execute it with zeal.”
He left her, soon after, to carry out these instructions, and that very evening he was in the wardrobe of the little theater, rummaging out a suitable costume, and also in close conference with the wigmaker.
Next day Vizard had his mother's sables taken out and aired, and drove Mademoiselle Klosking into Taddington in an open carriage. Fanny told her they were his mother's sables, and none to compare with them in the country.
On returning, she tried her voice to the harmonium in her own antechamber, and found it was gaining strength—like herself.