"To Merroccer," repeated Olejoe, "the same place as the leather—'when he finds I've persuaded my niece (I'll tell you who she is in a minute: I'm keepin' that back to the last), when he finds I've took my niece for a holiday to Merroccer the chances are,' sez the old boy, 'he'll come after her. Now if the Duke goes to Merroccer,' sez the chap—you'll never guess his name, not if you guess for a million years—'if the Duke goes to Merroccer. I don't care a damn what you do—in Merroccer.'"
"Tuppy," said the Duke quickly, "you can stay out of this business if you like: if you come in there'll be no risk and a lot of amusement. Will you come?"
"Like a shot," said Tuppy.
"No, you'd never guess..." Olejoe was saying.
"We've time to pack and catch the two-twenty from Cannon Street. Just take a few things—we can buy what we want in Paris."
They made a rush from the room.
"You'd never guess," Olejoe rambled on with closed eyes and swaying slightly, "who the old feller was, and who the young lady was ... now," with a heavy jocularity, "I'll give you three guesses...."
He was still talking when the door slammed behind the adventurers.
III
There are limitations even to the powers of dukes.