"What did you mean, then?" asked his lordship somewhat crossly, for he understood and appreciated the sneer.
"Well, we didn't think you were ever let out without your dry-nurse--Lloyd, don't you know? Don't be angry, old fellow, it's only my chaff!"
"It's a deuced bad style of chaff," said Lord Ticehurst, who had grown very white, and whose lips trembled as he spoke,--"a deuced bad style of chaff; and I'll trouble you not to try it on me, Mr. Maitland!"
"Mr. Maitland! Come, that be hanged!" said Bobby, who saw that he had gone a little too far. "I'm very sorry if I've offended you, Etchingham, and I apologise. I can't say more."
The good-natured young man accepted the apology at once, and the three walked on together. Lord Ticehurst, then explaining that he was only in the town for a few hours, and that he had ordered a solitary dinner at the Queen's Hotel, was easily persuaded to let Mr. Stackborough (who was too delighted to fetch and carry for a lord) go and countermand it, while his lordship agreed to dine with his new-found acquaintances at the Marine. So, to the intense delight of Mr. Stackborough, they strolled up and down the parade, listening to the band, looking after the pretty women, and criticising the horses. "Haystacks" conversation became almost unintelligible during this walk; for Lord Ticehurst being eminently horsey, and the talk running on the breeding and look of horses, Mr. Stackborough would, under ordinary circumstances, have turned on the turf tap, and drawn his idioms from the stable; but the maritime clothes still from time to time asserted their influence, and the result was that the unfortunate youth got into a series of linguistic knots which he could not untie, and with which no one could assist him.
The dinner at the Marine was a success. Boffham, who keeps the hotel, had been chefto Count Krammetsvogel, of the Hanoverian embassy, in former days, and had turned out many excellent official dinners, of which Lord Ticehurst's father had partaken. When he heard that the young lord was to be a guest of one of his guests, Boffham went himself to the kitchen, and showed that neither Time nor the gout had robbed his hand of its cunning. The wines too--notably some Chateau Yquem and some Steinberger Cabinet, which had been bought by Boffham out of the Krammetsvogel cellar when the count was recalled--were delicious; so delicious, that many bottles were drunk, and the hearts of the drinkers were warmed, and their tongues loosened. Something which Bobby Maitland had said to him when they first met that day had stuck in Lord Ticehurst's throat. He had tried to swallow it, but the attempt had been unsuccessful. Under the influence of the wine he felt he must mention it--he could see no reason why he should not.
"Bobby!" he said, as they were sipping their claret, "my horses will be round in a minute; but I want to say two words to you before I go.--Don't you move, Mr. Stacks," Stackborough made a kind of blundering attempt to rise,--"don't you move, there's nothing secret or private,"--here Lord Ticehurst looked long and earnestly at the wick of the candle close by him, then proceeded--"or at least; if there is, you're far too good a fellow, Stacks, to--to--you know what I mean.--So do you, Bobby."
"All right, Etchingham, old boy, I know," said Mr. Maitland "What do you want to say?" Mr. Maitland had to repeat his question, Lord Ticehurst having again become absorbed in the contemplation of the candle. "What do you want to say?"
"What do I want to say?" said his lordship, after a pause--"ah, that's just it! I wonder--O, I know! Don't you know when you folks first met me to-day, you said something, Bobby--something about Lloyd?"
"Yes, I recollect--what then?"