"Kent-Lauriston!" he exclaimed. "You're the very man I want! I must speak with you!"
"I know it," replied his friend, "but not before I've had my smoke."
"But this matter admits of no delay."
"Oh yes, it does. That's one of the fallacies of modern civilisation. Every important question admits of delay, and most matters are all the better for it."
"But I've seen the register!"
"Of course you have, but you haven't seen a deduction that is as plain as the nose on your face, or you wouldn't now be trying to ruin my digestion. I'll meet you here at ten o'clock this evening and then, and not an instant sooner, will I discuss your private affairs."
"You English are so irritatingly slow!"
"My dear fellow, we've made our history—you're making yours. You can't afford to miss a few days; we can easily spare a few centuries. Now be a good boy, and leave me to peace and tobacco. Join the ladies, and pay a little attention to one of your fiancées."
So it was that Stanley found himself relegated to the drawing-room, and feeling decidedly upset, he good-naturedly determined to see what he could do towards upsetting the equanimity of the rest of the party. In this, however, he was partially forestalled by the good parson, who had not been wasting the few minutes of grace, which the Secretary's conversation with Kent-Lauriston had allotted to him.
No sooner had Mr. Lambert entered the drawing-room, than he sought out Miss Fitzgerald, and confided to her an astonishing discovery he had made in the church register.