Mr. Liversedge frowned. “He was not a flash-cull!” he said with some asperity. “He was a gentleman of high breeding. His hat bore the name of Lock upon the band: I observed it when he laid it brim upwards on the table. That may mean little to you: it conveys to me the information that he is one who frequents the haunts of high fashion. During that period in my life when I acted as a gentleman’s gentleman, I became acquainted, with the nicest particularity, with every detail of an out-and-out swell’s attire. I recognized at a glance in this greenhorn a member of the Upper Ten Thousand.”
Mr. Shifnal being plainly out of his depth, Mr. Mimms kindly translated this speech for him. “He was as spruce as an onion,” he said.
“If you choose so to put it,” agreed Mr. Liversedge graciously. “Take only this handkerchief! Of the finest quality, you observe, and the monogram—” Suddenly he stopped short, as an idea occurred to him, and subjected the handkerchief to a closer scrutiny. It had been hemmed for the Duke by the loving hands of his nurse, who was a notable needle-woman. In one corner she had embroidered a large S, and had had the pretty notion of enclosing the single letter in a circle of strawberry leaves. “No,” said Mr. Liversedge, staring at it. “Not a monogram. A single letter. In fact, the letter S.” He looked up, and across the table at his brother. “Joseph,” he said, in an odd voice, “what does that single letter S suggest to you?”
“Nothing,” replied Mr. Mimms tersely.
“Samuel,” suggested Mr. Shifnal, after profound mental research. He saw an impatient frown on Mr. Liversedge’s brow, and corrected himself. “Swithin, I should say!”
“No, no, no!” exclaimed Mr. Liversedge testily. “Where are your wits gone begging? Joseph, what, I ask you, are these leaves?”
Mr. Mimms peered at the embroidery. “Leaves,” he said.
“Leaves! Yes, but what leaves?”
“Sam,” said Mr. Mimms severely, “it’s mops and brooms with you, that’s what it is! And if it was you as prigged a bottle of good brandy from the tap-room, and me blaming it on to Walter—”
“Joseph, cease trifling! These are strawberry leaves!”