“No, I was not thinking of Bathurst,” said Carlyon calmly.
“This is something indeed!” said John, with awful irony. “Depend upon it, Ned, this is all a figment of the imagination, and whatever it was that De Castres wanted will be found to have nothing whatsoever to do with any state affair!”
“I hope you may be right. I am really not anxious to plunge the whole family into such a scandal as you have already foreseen.”
The butler came into the room, and bowed. “I beg your lordship’s pardon, but my Lord Bedlington has called and would wish to have speech with your lordship immediately. I have ushered his lordship into the Crimson Saloon.”
John choked over his sherry and was taken with a fit of coughing. After an infinitesimal pause, Carlyon said, “Inform his lordship that I shall be with him directly, and carry sherry and madeira into the Crimson Saloon. You had better instruct Mrs. Rugby to prepare the Blue Suite, since no doubt his lordship will be spending the night here.”
The butler bowed again, and withdrew. Carlyon glanced down at his brother. “Now what have you to say?” he inquired.
“Damme, Ned!” said John, still coughing. “It was only his being announced so pat! You must have expected him to come here!”
“I did,” replied Carlyon. “But not before he had received my letter notifying him of Eustace’s death.”
“What?” John exclaimed. “You inserted a notice in the Gazette, of course! He has seen that!”
“He can hardly have done so, since it does not appear until tomorrow,” Carlyon retorted.