Lord John remained, in spite of this challenge, conscious of nothing but his message. “He was there with Mackintosh—to see and admire the picture; which he thinks, by the way, a Mantovano pure and simple!—and did me the honour to remember me. When he heard me report to Mackintosh in his presence the sentiments expressed to me here by our noble friend and of which, embarrassed though I doubtless was,” the young man pursued to Lady Sandgate, “I gave as clear an account as I could, he was so delighted with it that he declared they mustn’t think then of taking the thing off, but must on the contrary keep putting it forward for all it’s worth, and he would come round and congratulate and thank Theign and explain him his reasons.”
Their hostess cast about for a sign. “Why Theign is at Kitty’s, worse luck! The Prince calls on him here?”
“He calls, you see, on you, my lady—at five-forty-five; and graciously desired me so to put it you.”
“He’s very kind, but”—she took in her condition—“I’m not even dressed!”
“You’ll have time”—the young man was a comfort—“while I rush to Berkeley Square. And pardon me, Bender—though it’s so near—if I just bag your car.”
“That’s, that’s it, take his car!”—Lady Sandgate almost swept him away.
“You may use my car all right,” Mr. Bender contributed—“but what I want to know is what the man’s after.”
“The man? what man?” his friend scarce paused to ask.
“The Prince then—if you allow he is a man! Is he after my picture?”
Lord John vividly disclaimed authority. “If you’ll wait, my dear fellow, you’ll see.”