“Pshaw!” said Mrs Griffin.
Sir Richard judged it to be time to call attention to his own presence. He walked forward in the direction of the staircase.
“Here is the gentleman!” said the landlord, with a good deal of relief. “He will tell for himself that what I’ve said is the truth, ma’am.”
Sir Richard paused, and glanced with raised eyebrows from Mrs Griffin to her son, and from Mr Frederick Griffin to the landlord. “I beg your pardon?” he drawled.
The attention of the Griffins instantly became focused upon him. The gentleman’s eyes were riveted to his cravat; the lady, taking in his air of elegance, was plainly shaken.
“If your honour pleases!” said the landlord. “The lady, sir, is come in search of a young gentleman, which has run away from school, the same being her ward. I’ve told her that I have but one young gentleman staying in the house, and him your honour’s nephew, and I’d be glad if you’d bear me out, sir.”
“Really,” said Sir Richard, bored, “I don’t know whom you have staying in the house besides myself and my nephew.”
“The question is, have you a nephew?” demanded Mrs Griffin.
Sir Richard raised his quizzing-glass, surveyed her through it, and bowed slightly. “I was certainly under the impression that I had a nephew, ma’am. May I ask in what way he interests you?”
“If he is your nephew, I have no interest in him whatsoever,” declared the matron handsomely.