'Where, then, is he?'
'At lodgings in Pall-Mall:' (for Delamere had left his direction with his father's servants.)
Elkerton therefore took the address with a pencil; and determined, without farther reflection, to drive thither.
It was about four o'clock, and in the middle of November, when Delamere had just returned to his lodgings, to dress before he met his foreign friend, and some other young men, to dine at a tavern in St. James's-Street, when a loud rap at the door announced a visitor.
Millefleur having no orders to the contrary, and being dazzled with the splendour of Elkerton's equipage, let him in; and he was humming an Italian air out of tune, in Delamere's drawing-room, when the latter came out in his dressing-gown and slippers to receive him.
Delamere, on seeing the very odd figure and baboonish face of Elkerton, instead of that of somebody he knew, stopped short and made a grave bow.
Elkerton advancing towards him, bowed also profoundly, and said, 'I am charmed, Sir, with being permitted the honour of paying you my devoirs.'
Delamere concluded from his look and bow, as well as from a foreign accent, (which Elkerton had affected 'till it was become habitual) that the man was either a dancing master or a quack doctor, sent to him by some of his companions, who frequently exercised on each other such efforts of practical wit. He therefore being not without humour, bowed again more profoundly than before; and answered, 'that the honour was entirely his, tho' he did not know how he had deserved it.'
'I was so fortunate, Sir,' resumed Elkerton, 'so fortunate as to—have the honour—the happiness—of knowing Lord Montreville and Lady Montreville a few years ago at Naples.'