“And Sir Henry Horley?”
“Also of the nobility.”
“But he is scarcely a nobleman, only a baronet,” I explained. “And, besides, I only know him slightly. He is not my friend.”
“Embrace him; make him your friend.”
I fancied I saw myself; but what was the good in arguing with an enthusiasm like this?
I proceeded to read my other answers, and I did not know whether to feel more astonished at the list of guests or at the curious knowledge of my movements and acquaintances which my visitor must somehow have acquired. The acceptances included Lord Thane, with whom I had only the very slightest acquaintance, Mr. Alderman Guffin, at whose house I had once dined, one or two people of social position whom I had met through Lumme or Shafthead, and General Sholto.
“Ah, the General!” I said. “Well, he, at least, is an old soldier.”
“Be kind to him; he is our brightest hope,” said the Marquis.
I looked at him in astonishment. “What do you know of him?”
I could have sworn he blushed. “What do I not know of all your friends?” he replied.