“What is the matter?”
Tulliwuddle glanced at the Baron.
“I don't know whether the Baron would be interested——”
“Immensely, my goot Tollyvoddle! Supremely! hugely! I could be interested to-night in a museum!”
“The Baron's past life makes him a peculiarly catholic judge of indiscretions,” said Essington.
Thus reassured, Tulliwuddle began—
“You know I've an aunt who takes an interest in me—wants me to collar an heiress and that sort of thing. Well, she has more or less arranged a marriage for me.”
“Fill your glasses, gentlemen!” cried Essington.
“Hoch, hoch!” roared the Baron.
“But, I say, wait a minute! That's only the beginning. I don't know the girl—and she doesn't know me.”