“I do assure you!”
The train had stopped, and as they were the only first-class passengers on board, a peculiarly magnificent footman already had his hand upon the door. Before turning the handle, he touched his hat.
“Lord Tulliwuddle?” he respectfully inquired.
“Ja—zat is, yes, I am,” replied the Baron.
CHAPTER VIII
From the platform down to the pier was only some fifty yards, and before them the travellers perceived an exceedingly smart steam-launch, and a stout middle-aged gentleman, in a blue serge suit and yachting cap, advancing from it to greet them. They had only time to observe that he had a sanguine complexion, iron-gray whiskers, and a wide-open eye, before he raised the cap and, in a decidedly North British accent, thus addressed them—
“My lord—ahem!—your lordship, I should say—I presume I've the pleasure of seeing Lord Tulliwuddle?”
The Count gently pushed his more distinguished friend in front. With an embarrassment equal to their host's, his lordship bowed and gave his hand.
“I am ze Tollyvoddle—vary pleased—Mistair Gosh, I soppose?”