“Not a bit, gov’nor. He’s a poor thing, and not worthy of her.”
“Oh, dear, dear, dear,” sighed Lord Barmouth. “But I’m afraid I couldn’t get away.”
“You leave it to me, and we’ll dine at nine, gov’nor. Don’t take anything at ours.”
“No, Tom, no.”
“Now go down.”
The old man finished his champagne, thinking of her ladyship’s word—then.
After that he went downstairs, and that night, as good as his word, Tom shuffled him out as soon as the ladies had left the dining-room.
It was easily done, and the door was just being quietly closed as they stood under the portico, when from just outside and beyond the pillar there came the sudden burst of music from an organ, as the man who had been playing changed the tune, and as the pair hurried away they brushed against the player, who stood by the area railings in his slouched hat and ragged attire.
“What the—”
“Devil” his lordship was going to say, for something struck him on the top of his gibus hat.