“Well, let me hear it, sir. You become interesting.”
“I become dangerous, Robin — dangerous as only I can be. I am Nemesis, no less! And you — you are the instrument to my hand. You shall rescue a lady, and kill the villain.”
“Out, sword!” said Robin flippantly. “You hold me entranced, sir. Who is the lady?”
My lord looked surprised. “Who but the lady of your heart, my son? Do I arrange so clumsily?”
Robin stiffened. The flippancy left him, and he spoke crisply. “What’s this?”
“I kiss my fingers to her!” My lord made a gesture very French. “She is ravishing!”
“Who?”
My lord’s eyes widened reproachfully. “Why, Letitia, of course; I should not arrange for you to rescue another. Did you — it is really possibly that you thought I did not know? My son, my son, you grieve me, positively you grieve me!”
“Accept my apologies, sir. I suppose you know everything. But what’s this talk of rescues, and who’s your villain?”
“Gently, my hothead, gently! You shall know all. You will rescue her tomorrow night; the villain is my poor blundering friend of Munich days.”