"Means travelling, Mr. Frank," responded the domestic. "The order was given in a violent hurry—and so I haven't a moment to spare. But here's master and her ladyship."
And, sure enough, Sir Christopher and Lady Blunt made their appearance at that instant, the former enveloped in his great coat and with a silk handkerchief tied round all the lower part of his face,—and Charlotte muffled in a splendid cloak.
"I say, Sir Christopher!" cried Frank: "this won't do at any price, you know."
"What won't do, sir?" demanded the knight in a stern tone. "Now, then, Jeffreys—down with the steps."
"Yes, sir:"—and the steps were lowered accordingly.
Frank stood aghast, as he saw the knight hand his better half into the carriage: and the said better half pouted up her really pretty mouth in a disdainful manner as she passed the forlorn youth.
Sir Christopher was about to follow her into the vehicle, when Frank suddenly seized him by the skirts of his great coat, exclaiming, "You shan't sneak off in this manner: you shall stay to—to——"
"To what?" growled Sir Christopher from the depths of the silk handkerchief which came up to his nose.
"To be shot at!" returned Frank, almost driven to desperation.
The lady inside uttered a scream—Sir Christopher gave a desperate groan, and, breaking away from his nephew, rushed into the carriage—Jeffreys put up the steps and banged the door—and the vehicle rolled away, leaving Curtis standing alone on the pavement, the very picture of the most ludicrous despair.