"No more, sir. By George, if I were ten years younger——"
"You carry a gramophone with you."
"You are remarkably well informed as to my luggage, sir. I do, but it's too bulky for you to carry away. They're cheap enough. A man of taste like yourself ought to be able to afford one of his own."
"I don't want to take it away, my lord. I simply want the favour of a dance tune and a lady's hand."
For a moment the Earl looked puzzled. Then he exclaimed: "By George! Claude Duval up to date! No, sir, I'll be hanged if——" His lordship stopped suddenly. He was keen of hearing, and as he spoke he had heard, or thought he heard, a distant car. Even if it meant a dance with his daughter, he would detain the man until assistance arrived. In a moment he had altered his voice.
"On second thoughts, sir," he said, "I don't know. After all, it's a tradition of your—er—profession. Perhaps you will oblige the gentleman, Eva." As he spoke he pressed the girl's hand so that she might know that something lay behind his words. "Where's the gramophone?" he asked. While searching for the instrument his lordship actually started whistling, lest the highwayman should also hear the car.
"Ah, here it is," he said aloud. Then, in a whisper to his daughter, "Car coming. Distract his attention." In his anxiety his lordship even hummed as he hurriedly manipulated the instrument, inserting the first record that came to hand.
He wound up the toy, and a baritone voice sang raucously:—
"Egypt! my Cleopatra! I ain't no flatt'rer,
But dis is true,
(I'm a-goin' to tell her)
Egypt! if you don't want me. . . .
In a trice Lady Eva had found a more suitable record, and after a momentary pause the instrument struck up "The Darkie Cake Walk," as played by the New York Municipal Band, at Manhattan Beach, Long Island, U.S.A.