“Oh — Leek!” Martin said, with a laugh. “You are as bad as Theo! There’s no mystery about it! Merely, Studley asked to be permitted to visit his old father, and I hate to have strangers about me.”
“Ah, he is an acquaintance of yours?”
“Why, no, not precisely! He’s Hickling’s uncle — my groom, you know! Of course, it wouldn’t do to keep him for ever, but he does well enough while Studley is away. Besides, he — he keeps my boots in good order!”
The Earl, whose Hessians shone with a mirror-like gloss, for an instant levelled his glass at Martin’s top-boots. He let it fall, and said politely: “That is certainly an advantage. Er — what does he use on them?”
“Blacking, I suppose! What does Turvey use on yours?”
“Ah, that is a secret into which I have not been admitted!”
“Champagne, perhaps?” said Martin sardonically.
“I should not be at all surprised.”
They had come by this time to the head of the Grand Stairway. Abney, emerging from the Italian Saloon, stared at them for an astonished moment, and then bowed, and said, with a good deal of feeling: “Your lordship! May I say how very happy I am to see your lordship restored to us?”
“Thank you; I am much obliged to you. Shall I find her ladyship in the Italian Saloon?”