Sir Anthony laid down his cane and his hat, and began to take off his greatcoat. As one who had no further interest in Miss Grayson he took out his snuff-box, unfobbed it, and held it out to Mr Merriot. His hand was very white and finely shaped, but it looked to have some strength. “Sir,” said he, smiling sleepily for all his grey eyes were alert beneath their rather heavy lids, “you will permit me to thank you on behalf of my friend, Sir Humphrey Grayson, for your services to his daughter.”
Mr Merriot helped himself to a pinch of snuff. Grey eyes met grey; the humorous look played around Mr Merriot’s mouth. “Lud, here’s a solemnity!” he said. “I am Miss Grayson’s servant to command.”
Miss Grayson forgot her dignity. “Tony, ’twas wonderful! His sword was out in a trice, and I thought he was about to run that odious Markham right through the body, but just as it was too monstrously exciting for words the point seemed to flash upwards and the hilt caught Markham on the chin.” She demonstrated with a small fist to her own pretty chin. “He went down like a stone,” she ended dramatically. Her glance fell on Miss Merriot by the fire. “And Miss Merriot too was splendid, Tony, for she pretended to swoon in Markham’s arms.”
Mr Merriot looked down at his sister something quizzically. “My dear, I eclipse you,” he murmured. He turned again to Sir Anthony. “Thus we mourn our departed suitor. Now where did you find my man John?” He began to pour wine, and handed one glass to the large gentleman.
“At Stilton,” Sir Anthony replied. “Just before I saw my friend Mr Markham. He was endeavoring to hide a chaise and horses which — er — aroused my suspicions. He was induced to confide in me.”
Mr Merriot looked meditatively at that square handsome face. “I wonder why?” he said, for he knew his John.
A singularly attractive smile crossed Sir Anthony’s face. “My charm of manner, sir, I believe,” he said.
There came a laugh from Miss Merriot. “I begin to have a kindness for the large gentleman,” she remarked to the room at large. “And you met the so dear Mr Markham, sir?”
“Hardly, madam. I had rather say I saw the so dear Mr Markham pass me in a cloud of — mud, I believe.”
“I wonder, did he see you?” Miss Merriot’s eyes were bright with laughter.