"Be under no apprehensions about your baggage, my lord," said the station-master. "I shall expedite it myself. Be under no apprehensions," he repeated; "it will certainly reach Cherrington Lanes to-night."
The porter, who was as eager as his chief to show his appreciation of being employed at a railway station patronized by Lord and Lady Clarehaven, overstepped the bounds of good will by picking up the perspiring woman's tin box in order to place it in the car. Luckily his chief perceived the horrible mistake in time and bellowed at him to take it out and leave it on the pavement outside the station. Then raising his cap, a gesture reserved for noblemen and irritation of the scalp, the station-master bowed Lord and Lady Clarehaven upon their way.
"Car going well, Deacock?"
"Not too well, my lord."
"Make the old thing hum, because I want her ladyship to reach Clarehaven before dark."
The chauffeur touched his cap, and the car answered generously to his efforts in spite of continual criticisms leveled against it by the owner.
"We must get a Lee-Lonsdale," he said to his wife.
"That would be very nice for Lonnie," she agreed. "Mine, of course, was more a car for town. So I sold it."
She did not add that her own Lee-Lonsdale had provided her with a bracelet of rubies.
"The setting is new," she had said to Tony when she showed him this heirloom. "But the stones are old."