"Allow me," said Trimmer theatrically. "George, Lord Harrowby."
George cleared his throat, but did not succeed in dislodging his heart, which was there at the moment.
"Fawncy seeing you after all these years," he mumbled weakly, to no one in particular.
"Speak up," said Spencer Meyrick sharply.
"Who is it you're talking to?"
"To him," explained George, nodding toward Lord Harrowby. "To my brother Allan. Don't you know me, Allan? Don't you know—"
He stopped. An expression of surprise and relief swept over his worried face. He turned triumphantly to Trimmer.
"I don't have to prove who I am to him," he announced.
"Why don't you?" demanded Trimmer in alarm.
"Because he can't, I fancy," put in Lord Harrowby.