“Yes, sir.”
“That is all,” said the Beau.
The valet bowed and walked towards the door. As he reached it the Beau said softly: “I should not like you to display any vulgar curiosity at the Red Lion, Gregg.”
“No, sir. You may rely on me.”
“Oh, I do, Gregg, I do!” said the Beau, and picking up the journal from the table, sat down with it in a winged armchair by the fire.
The valet lingered for a moment. “If I may venture to say something, sir?” he suggested meekly.
“By all means, Gregg.”
“The lady who accompanied Sir Tristram into this room, sir. I understand she was desirous of inspecting the panelling?”
The Beau raised his eyes from the journal. “Well?”
“Just so, sir. It would, of course, explain conduct which seemed to Thomson and myself a trifle odd. I beg pardon, I’m sure.”