"How clever you are," said Chris, admiringly. "Walen's American and
Lockhart's American, with the modest pseudonym of John Smith, are what
Mrs. Malaprop would call three single gentlemen rolled into one. We are
going to make the acquaintance of John Smith Rawlins."
"Oh, indeed, and when do we start, may I ask?"
Chris responded coolly that she hoped to get away in the course of the day. With a great show of virtuous resignation Lord Littimer consented.
"I have always been the jest of fortune," he said, plaintively; "but I never expected to be dragged all over the place at my time of life by a girl who is anxious to make me acquainted with the choicest blackguardism in the kingdom. I leave my happy home, my cook, and my cellar, for at least a week of hotel living. Well, one can only die once."
Chris bustled away to make the necessary arrangements. Some few hours later Lord Littimer was looking out from his luxurious private sitting-room with the assumption of being a martyr. He and Chris were dressed for dinner; they were waiting for the bell to summon them to the dining-room. When they got down at length they found quite a large number of guests already seated at the many small tables.
"Your man here?" Littimer asked, languidly.
Chris indicated two people seated in a window opposite.
"There!" she whispered. "There he is. And what a pretty girl with him!"