M. Plançon himself burst into the room at this moment, his eyes fairly starting from his head. A flood of questions broke from him, accompanied by much excited gesticulation. My lord disposed of nun summarily enough. “Calm yourself, my friend. Madame merely wished to assure herself that my pistol was in order.”
“But milor’, in my hôtel! My beautiful salle he is spoiled! Ah, mon Dieu, but regard me that hole in the wall!”
“Put it down on the shot, you old villain, and remove your fat carcase from my sight,” said his lordship. He saw his steward behind the agitated landlord. “Fletcher, take the fool away.”
“Certainly, my lord,” said Fletcher impassively, and drew M. Plançon out of the room.
Miss Challoner said guiltily: “Oh dear, I am sorry! I did not know it would make such a stir.”
Vidal’s eyes began to twinkle. “You’ve spoiled his beautiful salle, and you’ve spoiled my no less beautiful coat.”
“I know,” said Miss Challoner, hanging her head. “But, after all, it was your fault,” she said with spirit. “You told me to do it.”
“I may have told you to do it, but I can’t say I thought that you would,” replied his lordship.
“You shouldn’t have come any nearer,” she said severely.
“Obviously,” he agreed. He began to strip off his coat. “I make you my compliments. I know of only one other woman who would have had the courage to pull that trigger.”