"Good-night, brother!" said Mrs. Dugald.
When the "ladies," attended by the housekeeper, had left the room and were quite out of hearing, Lord Vincent turned to his accomplice and whispered:
"You did that capitally, Frisbie. You would make an excellent actor. Anyone on earth, looking at you this evening and not knowing the truth, would have thought you were dying of mortification and terror—you shook and faltered so naturally."
"Oh, my lord!" returned the valet, in modest deprecation of this praise.
"You did; but now I wish you to tell me. How did you manage to awaken the suspicions of old Cuthbert? How did you manage to draw his eyes upon you—and draw him on to watch you until you entered the room without seeming to know that you were watched?"
"I tell you, my lord, that part of my task was hard. But I contrived to do it by pretending to watch him, and affecting to dodge out of sight every time he saw me. This excited his curiosity, and caused him to conceal himself in order to watch me. When I knew that he had done this, I began to creep towards my lady's apartments, knowing full well that he was stealing after me."
"But how did you contrive to get into the boudoir?"
"I wore list slippers, and your lordship knows that the thick carpets return no echo to the footstep, and that the doors open and shut silently. First I peeped through the keyhole, and I saw that her ladyship was sitting within the curtained recess of the hay window, looking out at sea, her attention being absorbed there, and her back being towards the door. So I just softly opened the door, entered the room, closing it after me and concealed myself behind your lordship's own great easy-chair, that I knew was never drawn from its dark corner,"
"For the good reason that the owner is never there to occupy it," sneered the viscount.
"Just so, my lord. And now I have told your lordship exactly how I managed matters, so as to make old Cuthbert our accomplice without his ever suspecting it."