Mr. Greenwood had just concluded an early dinner (early for him) after having devoted the greater part of the day to business in the City, and a small portion of it to his fair Georgian, for whom he had taken elegantly furnished apartments in Suffolk Street, Pall Mall.
Having disposed of his last glass of champagne, the honourable member for Rottenborough rang the bell.
Lafleur made his appearance.
"Is the chaise ordered for seven precisely?" inquired Mr. Greenwood.
"Yes, sir—seven precisely, sir," answered the valet.
"Did you write to my agent at Rottenborough to tell him that I should pass through that town at half-past eight, and that although I wished to preserve a strict incognito, yet I should not mind being recognised while the horses are changing at the inn?"
"I mentioned all that, sir," replied Lafleur; "and I suggested that he had better get together a hundred or so of persons in the tap-room, to be ready to rush out and cheer you."
"That was well thought of, Lafleur. I have already sent a paragraph to the morning newspaper in which I am a shareholder, stating that I was enthusiastically cheered as I passed through Rottenborough. It will appear to-morrow morning. Have you renewed my positive orders to the policeman on this beat to take all beggars into custody who are found loitering near my door?"
"I have, sir. One woman, with three whimpering children, was dragged off to the station-house half an hour ago, for looking too earnestly down the area windows," said Lafleur. "Her husband has just been to beg you to intercede with the Inspector for her release. He said he was a hard-working man, and that it must be a mistake, as his wife was no beggar."