“Fetch Mr Brown,” Sir Richard told the servant.
“Abduction, by Jupiter!” said Cedric. “What young dog?”
“Major Daubenay,” said Sir Richard, “is labouring under the delusion that my cousin eloped last night with his daughter.”
“Eh?” Cedric blinked. An unholy gleam stole into his eyes as he glanced from Sir Richard to the Major; he said unsteadily: “No, by Jove, you don’t mean it? You ought to keep him in better order, Ricky!”
“Yes!” said the Major. “He ought indeed! But instead of that he has—I will not say abetted the young scoundrel—but adopted an attitude which I can only describe as Callous, sir, and supine!”
Cedric shook his head. “That’s Ricky all over.” His gravity broke down. “Oh lord, what the deuce put it into your head your daughter had gone off with his cousin? I’ll tell you what, it’s the richest jest I’ve heard in months! Ricky, if I don’t roast you for this for years to come!”
“You are going to the Peninsula, Ceddie,” Sir Richard said, with a lurking smile.
“You are amused, sir!” the Major said, bristling.
“Lord, yes, and so would you be if you knew as much about Wyndham’s cousin as I do!”
The maid-servant came back into the room. “Oh, if you please, sir! Mr Brown’s not in his room,” she said, dropping a curtsey.