“You have, sir.”
“In that case, Mackenzie will be able to give you a satisfactory account of my presence; and in half an hour or so I shall have the pleasure of joining you downstairs.”
The Count, with a polite smile, turned over in bed, as though to indicate that the interview was now at an end. But his visitor apparently had other views.
“I should be obliged by some explanation from yourself of your entry into my house,” said he, steadily keeping his eye upon the Count.
“Now how the deuce shall I get out of this hole without letting Julia into another?” wondered Bunker; but before he could speak, Mackenzie had blurted out—
“Miss Wallingford, sir—the gentleman is a friend of hers, sir.”
“What!” thundered Sir Justin.
“I assure you that Miss Wallingford was actuated by the highest motives in honoring me with an invitation to The Lash,” said Bunker earnestly.
He had already dismissed an ingenious account of himself as a belated wanderer, detained by stress of weather, as certain to be contradicted by Julia herself, and decided instead on risking all upon his supposed uncle's saintly reputation.
“How came she to invite you, sir?” demanded Sir Justin.