At the same time he was deeply indignant with her, and, above all, with her hypocrisy in clinging round him and kissing him the very night she meditated flight from his house.
“I must find the girl out and get her back;” said he, and directly after breakfast he collected his myrmidons and set them to discover her retreat.
The outward frame-work of the holy alliance remained standing, but within it was dissolving fast. Each of the allies was even now thinking how to find Lucy and make a separate peace. During the flutter which now subsided, one person had done nothing but eat pigeon-pie. It was Kenealy, captain of horse.
Now eating pigeon-pie is not in itself a suspicious act, but ladies are so sharp. Mrs. Bazalgette said to herself, “This creature alone is not a bit surprised (for Bazalgette is fibbing); why is this creature not surprised? humph! Captain Kenealy,” said she, in honeyed tones, “what would you advise us to do?”
“Advertaize,” drawled the captain, as cool as a cucumber.
“Advertise? What! publish her name?”
“No, no names. I'll tell you;” and he proceeded to drawl out very slowly, from memory, the following advertisement. N. B.—The captain was a great reader of advertisements, and of little else.
“WANDERAA, RETARN.
“If L. F. will retarn—to her afflicted—relatives—she shall be received with open aams. And shall be forgotten and forgiven—and reunaited affection shall solace every wound.”
“That is the style. It always brings 'em back—dayvilish good paie—have some moa.”