"Has your lordship lost Mr. Ackill?" he asked.
"I hope not," replied the Earl. "Achille hurt his hand with a backfire this morning, and I sent him on by train to Harrogate to have it attended to. You got my note? Dinner at six?"
"To the minute, my lord."
The intervening time was chiefly spent by the Earl in confidential communion with his motor, through the intermediary of a spanner and an oil can.
While he was so engaged, and Cunningham was lounging near the door, reflecting on his bad luck, another car drove up, and two loudly-dressed men emerged from their wraps. They entered the hotel, drank thirstily, and talked without restraint.
Lady Eva de Mallaby passed through the hall soon afterwards. Struck by her beauty, one of the motorists, with the comradeship of one sportsman to another, addressed some remark to her, with a generous smile and a casual hat-lift.
Lady Eva, showing a trace of surprise, stared icily at the man and passed on.
"Hoity, toity," said the motorist, without any sign of shame. "But I'd like to have the breaking-in of you, Miss. Wouldn't you, Sammy?" addressing his companion.
"Too expensive," said Sammy. "Give me a four-year-old, like I bought to-day from Sir William, an' I'm 'appy."
"You're a bloomin' materialist, that's what you are, Sammy," retorted the other—"a bloomin' materialist." He lingered lovingly over the rounded phrase, and drained his glass again.