Mr Gisborne got up. “I will leave you, sir.” He bowed slightly to Mr Drelincourt, who paid not the slightest heed to him, and went out.
Mr Drelincourt pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. “I regret extremely, Rule, but you must prepare yourself for the most unpleasant tidings. If I did not consider it my duty to appraise you of what I have discovered, I should shrink from the task!”
The Earl did not seem to be alarmed. He still sat at his ease, one hand lying on the table, the fingers crooked round the stem of his wine-glass, his calm gaze resting on Mr Drelincourt’s face. “This self-immolation on the altar of duty is something new to me,” he remarked. “I daresay my nerves will prove strong enough to enable me to hear your tidings with—I trust—tolerable equanimity.”
“I trust so, Rule, I do indeed trust so!” said Mr Drelincourt, his eyes snapping. “You are pleased to sneer at my notion of duty—”
“I hesitate to interrupt you, Crosby, but you may have noticed that I never sneer.”
“Very well, cousin, very well! Be that as it may, you will allow that I have my share of family pride.”
“Certainly, if you tell me so,” replied the Earl gently.
Mr Drelincourt flushed. “I do tell you so! Our name—our honour, mean as much to me as to you, I believe! It is on that score that I am here now.”
“If you have come all this way to inform me that the catchpolls are after you, Crosby, it is only fair to tell you that you are wasting your time.”
“Very humorous, my lord!” cried Mr Drelincourt. “My errand, however, concerns you more nearly than that! Last night—I should rather say this morning, for it was long past two by my watch—I had occasion to visit my Lord Lethbridge.”