"Things are in train, Paul," he announced cheerfully. "Now all I want from you is just the smallest amount of help in this little affair."
I looked at him blankly. I had forgotten all about Lord Porthoning.
"It's a very small share indeed," Mr. Bundercombe continued pleadingly; "but such as it is it's up to you to take it on at this moment. There the little insect goes into the cloakroom. He has gone for his hat and coat. All you've got to do is just to follow him and ask him to come back for one moment. That little room on the left, across the hall, is empty. Bring him into that. Leave the rest to me."
"You're not going too far, are you?" I asked. "You see, after all, the old blackguard is a sort of connection."
Mr. Bundercombe laid his hand on my shoulder.
"My boy," he said, "there will be nothing but just a little incident that you can tell to Eve and laugh about on your way to the station. That I promise you."
I nodded and crossed the hall. Lord Porthoning was preparing to leave. "Have my car called up!" he ordered the footman from the doorstep. "Mind, I'm not going to hang about on the pavement in this sun for any one. If that's the motor waiting for the young people it'll have to get out of the way. Lord Porthoning's car at once, young fellow! Hello, Paul!" he added. "Come to see me off, eh?"
"Could I have just one word with you, Lord Porthoning?" I begged, as casually as possible.
"Be quick, then! If I haven't wished you happiness it's because I can't see what chance you have of getting it. But I suppose you're like all other young fools on their wedding day—you think the sun's shining only for you!"
"I am afraid," I retorted, a little nettled, "that I had not noticed the absence of your good wishes. I wish to speak to you on another matter."