“He has had enough of that,” said Mr. Neuchatel. “I believe he wants to be quiet.”
“That class of man is never quiet,” said Lord Roehampton.
“But what can he do?” said Mr. Neuchatel.
“What can he not do? Half Europe is in a state of chronic conspiracy.”
“You must keep us right, my dear lord. So long as you are in Downing Street I shall sleep at nights.”
“Miss Ferrars,” said Lord Roehampton abruptly to Mr. Neuchatel, “must have been the daughter of William Ferrars, one of my great friends in old days. I never knew it till to-day, and she did not tell me, but it flashed across me from something she said.”
“Yes, she is his daughter, and is in mourning for him at this moment. She has had sorrows,” said Mr. Neuchatel. “I hope they have ceased. It was one of the happiest days of my life when she entered this family.”
“Ah!” said Lord Roehampton.
The next day, after they had examined the famous stud and stables, there was a riding party, and in the evening Colonel Albert offered to perform some American conjuring tricks, of which he had been speaking in the course of the day. This was a most wonderful performance, and surprised and highly amused everybody. Colonel Albert was the last person who they expected would achieve such marvels; he was so quiet, not to say grave. They could hardly credit that he was the same person as he poured floods of flowers over Myra from her own borrowed pocket-handkerchief, and without the slightest effort or embarrassment, robbed Lord Roehampton of his watch, and deposited it in Adriana’s bosom. It was evident that he was a complete master of slight-of-hand.
“Characteristic!” murmured Lord Roehampton to himself.