Dunn nodded.
“Old man, isn't he?”
“I'm not a book of reference about Lord Chobham,” answered Dunn. “If you want to know his age, you can easily find out, I suppose. What's the sense of asking me a lot of questions like that?”
“He has no family, and his heir is his younger brother, General Dunsmore, who has one son, Rupert, I believe. Do you know if that's so?”
“Look here,” said Dunn, speaking with a great appearance of anger. “Don't you go too far, or maybe something you won't like will happen. If you've anything to say, say it straight out. Or there'll be trouble.”
Deede Dawson seemed a little surprised at the vehemence of the other's tone.
“What's the matter?” he asked. “Don't you like the family, or what's upsetting you?”
Dunn seemed almost choking with fury. He half-lifted one hand and let it fall again.
“If ever I get hold of that young Rupert Dunsmore,” he said with a little gasp for breath. “If ever I come face to face with him—man to man—”
“Dear me!” smiled Deede Dawson, lifting his eyebrows. “I'm treading on sore toes, it seems. What's the trouble between you?”