“If you touch me I’ll tell aunt of the game you’re carrying on with Lady Tilborough.”
Mark said afterwards to Jane that the guv’nor looked as if you could have knocked him down with a feather.
But the baronet recovered himself.
“What!” he cried. “Lady Tilborough? Because that lady happens to call here when your aunt is out, you dare to—to insinuate—you vile young viper—that—that—”
“Here, tit for tat, uncle. I’m not a baby,” said the boy. “I know. Gammon! Lady T. don’t visit with aunt, and I can see your little game.”
“My little game, sir!” stuttered Sir Hilton.
“Yes; you’re carrying on some game with her ladyship about the races. You told aunt you’d given up all racing.”
“Of course, sir!” cried Sir Hilton.
“Yes, and Dr Jack Granton’s been here to take your instructions this morning; Lady Tilborough rides over to see you on the sly as soon as auntie’s out; and Marky’s had orders to get the dogcart ready and pack your traps. Why, uncle,” shouted the boy as a sudden idea glanced through his sharp young mind, “you’re going to ride!”
“Hush!” shouted the guilty man, seizing the boy and clapping a hand over his mouth. “Silence, you wicked young scoundrel!”