Mr Drelincourt recoiled perceptibly, but tried to compose his sharp features into an expression of indifference. “Oh, in that case—I had no notion you was entertaining, my lord—you must forgive me!”
“I had no notion of it either,” said Lethbridge. “Perhaps you would care to play piquet with Winwood?”
“Really, you must hold me excused!” replied Mr Drelincourt, edging towards the door.
The Viscount, who had been regarding him fixedly, nudged Sir Roland. “There’s that fellow Drelincourt,” he said.
Sir Roland nodded. “Yes, that’s Drelincourt,” he corroborated. “I don’t know why, but I don’t like him, Pel. Never did. Let’s go.”
“Not at all,” said the Viscount with dignity. “Who asked him to come in? Tell me that! “Pon my soul, it’s a nice thing, so it is, if a fellow can come poking his nose into a private card party. I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll pull it for him.”
Mr Drelincourt, thoroughly alarmed, cast an imploring glance at Lethbridge, who merely looked saturnine. Sir Roland, however, restrained his friend. “You can’t do that, Pel. Just remembered you fought the fellow. Should have pulled his nose first. Can’t do it now.” He looked round the room with a frown. “Nother thing!” he said. “It was Monty’s card party, wasn’t it? Well, this ain’t Monty’s house. Knew there was something wrong!”
The Viscount sat up, and addressed himself to Lord Lethbridge with some severity. “Is this a card party or is it not?” he demanded.
“It is not,” replied Lethbridge.
The Viscount rose and groped for his hat. “You should have said so before,” he said. “If it ain’t a card party, what the devil is it?”