His lordship took the plunge. “Gideon, Aveley is saying that he met Gilly last night, on his way to dine with you!”
“Is he, indeed?” said Gideon.
“It seemed to me that I could do no less than tell you of it,” explained Gaywood, defensively.
“I thank you, Charlie. But I have nothing to add, you know.”
“Oh, very well!” said Gaywood. “But I’ll tell you this! The town will be in an uproar soon!”
Gideon laughed, and his lordship, nettled, picked up his hat, and took his leave of him. Gideon went on laughing.
By nightfall, Lord Lionel had reached London, and was at Sale House, demanding an explanation of Mr. Scriven’s letter to him, which he had no hesitation in calling a nonsensical piece of balderdash. “Where,” barked his lordship, “is his Grace?”
Captain Belper, who, in expectation of Lord Lionel’s arrival, had presented himself at Sale House some time earlier, replied earnestly: “My lord, would to God I knew!”
Lord Lionel had as little liking for the dramatic as Mr. Scriven, and he snorted. “No need to be acting any Cheltenham tragedies, sir!” he said dampingly. “I make no doubt this is a piece of work about nothing! In fact, I was of two minds whether I should come to town, for I depended upon your having comfortable tidings by this time, and to be running about the country after my nephew is the outside of enough!”
Everyone wilted a little at this testy speech. It was left to Mr. Scriven to say: “Only we have no comfortable tidings, my lord.”