"Too much imagination," said the man in the Guards; "military matters must be taken seriously. But nobody has answered my question yet. Who is this lady who has taken Wiltshire House?"
"I have already told you," said Paunceford sulkily. "I never came across such a set of unbelievers."
"Elderly, coloured, and of West Indian origin?" said the Guardsman. "It doesn't sound well."
I could stand it no longer.
"For goodness sake," I put in, "don't go about the town spreading that report. I assure you Paunceford is, as usual, altogether out of it."
"How do you know that?" asked Paunceford suspiciously.
"Because I happen to have had the good-fortune to travel with the lady from Paris to-day," I replied, with just that little touch of satisfaction the position warranted.
"And yet you kept quiet about it," said another man. "Well, you are a reticent beggar, I must say. Don't you know this has been one of the mysteries of the town. My goodness, man, you shan't escape from this room until you have told us all about her! Who is she? What is she? What is her name? How much money has she? Above all, is she pretty?"
"She is the Countess de Venetza," I replied. "Italian, I should say; rich—since she has taken Wiltshire House; and as for her personal appearance—well, when you see her, you will be able to judge of that for yourselves."