“Perfectly simple, my lord! You imagine that I played practical jokes upon you at Shonts. I didn’t. I have a witness. The attack upon you downstairs, the noise in your room—”
“Have I any guarantee—?”
“It’s the steward’s boy from Shonts. Your man outside knows him. Saw him in the steward’s room. He made the trouble for you—and me, and then he ran away. Just caught him. Not exchanged thirty words with him. Half a dozen questions. Settle everything. Then you’ll know—nothing for you but the utmost respect.”
Lord Moggeridge pressed his lips together and resisted conviction.
“In consideration,” interpolated Lord Chickney, “feelings of an old fellow. Old soldier. Boy means no harm.”
With the rudeness of one sorely tried the Lord Chancellor thrust the old general aside. “Oh!” he said, “Oh!” and then to Captain Douglas. “One minute. Where’s your witness?...”
The Captain opened a door. Bealby found himself bundled into the presence of two celebrated men.
“Tell him,” said Captain Douglas. “And look sharp about it.”
“Tell me plainly,” cried the Lord Chancellor, “and be—quick.”
He put such a point on “quick” that it made Bealby jump.