"Certainly not," said Lord Ellerdine in a staccato bleat.
"Good gracious! What an idea!" Alice Attwill chimed in.
Admaston turned to the ex-diplomatist. "Ellerdine," he said, "you ought not to sit up so late. You look very shaky this morning, and your voice has a peculiarly uncertain sound."
"Do I look shaky, old man? That damned journey——"
"To Paris," Admaston said quickly.
"Yes, yes, to Paris."
Admaston went up to him, gazing down at him with calm, reflective eyes as a mastiff regards some terrified small dog. "Late suppers don't agree with you," he said.
"With me?" asked the fool, perplexed.
"With Dicky? Late suppers?" Lady Attwill interrupted.
There was again a momentary pause.