"My own name—Dunstable Manor," was the reply; but the nobleman began to cast suspicious glances towards his friend.
"Dunstable Manor—eh? What a sweet pretty name!" ejaculated Egerton. "And yet it is very strange—I know Somersetshire as well as any one can know a county; but I do not recollect Dunstable Manor. How foolish I must be to forget such a thing as that."
With these words, he rose from the table and took down a large volume from the book-case.
"What are you going to do?" inquired Dunstable, now feeling particularly uneasy.
"Only refreshing my memory by a reference to this Gazetteer," answered Egerton, as he deliberately turned over the pages of the book.
"Oh! come—none of this nonsense!" exclaimed Dunstable, snatching the volume from Egerton's hands. "Who ever thinks of reading before company?"
"It would be rude, I admit," said Egerton, recovering the volume from the other's grasp, "were we not such very particular and intimate friends—so intimate indeed, that we have one purse in common between us all five, and that purse happens to be the one which I have the honour to carry in my pocket."
"Egerton, what is the matter with you?" demanded Lord Dunstable, who was now convinced that something was wrong.
"Matter! nothing at all, my dear boy," answered the young man, as he continued to turn the leaves of the volume. "Here it is—Somersetshire—a very detailed account—not even the smallest farm omitted. But how is this? Why—Dunstable Manor is not here!"
"Not there!" cried the nobleman, blushing up to his very hair.