As she had come to the house inquiring merely for Lord Tulliwuddle, and been conducted straight to the prisoner's cell, the stupefying effect of this announcement may readily be conceived.
“What!” ejaculated the Dariuses.
“It is not true! She is mad! Take her avay, please!” shouted the Baron, now desperate in his resolution to say or do anything, so long as he got rid of his formidable relative.
The Countess staggered back.
“Is he demented?” she inquired.
“Say, ma'am,” put in Ri, “are you the mother of Miss Constance Herringay?”
“Of——? I am Lady Grillyer!”
“See here, my good lady, that's going a little too far,” said the millionaire not unkindly. “This friend of yours here first calls himself Lord Tulliwuddle, and then the Baron von something or other. Well, now, that's two of the aristocracy in this under-sized apartment already. There's hardly room for a third—see? Can't you be plain Mrs. Smith for a change?”
The Countess tottered.
“Fellow!” she said in a faint voice, “I—I do not understand you.”