“Devilish hard on you, Pel,” agreed Sir Roland sympathetically. “But it won’t do, you know. Called Drelincourt out. Deal of talk over that. Call Lethbridge out—fatal!”
The Viscount smote the table with his fist. “Hang you, Pom, do you realize what the fellow did?” he cried.
“Very painful affair,” said Sir Roland. “Bad ton. Must hush it up.”
The Viscount seemed to be bereft of words.
“Hush it up now,” said Sir Roland. “Talk dies down—say three months. Pick a quarrel with him then.”
The Viscount brightened. “Ay, so I could. That solves it.”
“S-solves it? It doesn’t!” declared Horatia. “I m-must get my brooch back. If Rule m-misses it, it will all come out.”
“Nonsense!” said her brother. “Say you dropped it in the street.”
“It’s no good saying that! I tell you Lethbridge means m-mischief. He may wear it, just to m-make Rule suspicious.”
Sir Roland was shocked. “Bad blood!” he said. “Never did like the fellow.”