My lord re-filled his glass. “I am sure if anyone could interest me in such a subject, it must be you, dear Markham,” he said warmly.
Against such smooth-spoken politeness Mr Markham found it difficult to proceed. He felt somewhat at a disadvantage, but comforted himself with the thought that it was my lord who should feel at a disadvantage in a very few moments. He plunged abruptly into the subject of his errand. “As to this claim of yours, sir, that you are Tremaine of Barham, I don’t believe in it, but I am taking no interest in it now.”
“That is very wise of you,” my lord approved. “You must allow me to compliment you.”
Mr Markham ignored this. “For all I care, you may ape the part of Barham to your heart’s content. It’s nothing to me.”
“Positively you overwhelm me!” my lord said. “You oppress me with kindness, sir. And you come, in fact, to set my mind at rest! Believe me all gratitude.”
“I don’t come for that purpose at all,” said Mr Markham, annoyed. “I come for a purpose, for which you may not be so damned grateful.”
“Impossible!” My lord shook his head. “The mere felicity of seeing you here in my rooms must fill me with gratitude.”
Mr Markham broke in on this without ceremony. “Barham you may be, but there is one thing you have been which is certain!” He paused to let this sink in.
My lord did not seem to be greatly impressed. “Oh, a number of things!” he assured his guest. “Of course, there are a number of things I have not been, too. They have never fallen in my way, which is the reason, you see. But continue! Pray continue!”
“I will, my lord. You may not find it so palatable as you imagine. You have been — you may be still, for aught I know — a cursed Jacobite!”