“What do you make of that?” I exclaimed, when they had all gone.
“They've mistaken the house, o' course,” said Teddy.
“Horleens, Horleens,” repeated Dick, thought-fully. “I have it! They meant Orleans. They must be some of your gay sportsmen.”
“Of course!” I cried. “That must have been the password. Well, no doubt they have found the proper door by this time. But I fear, gentlemen, that we are to have this dinner all to ourselves.”
“Let's eat it anyhow,” said Dick. “I've a twist like a pig's tail.”
This sentiment being heartily applauded by Teddy, I rang for the waiter, and we sat down to as excellent a dinner as you could wish to taste. Certainly, whatever miscalculations the Marquis had made, this part of his programme was successfully arranged and enthusiastically carried through. We ate, we drank, we laughed, we jested; you would have thought that the night had nothing more serious in store for any of us. Halfred, who helped to wait upon us, nearly dropped the dishes more than once in his efforts to control his mirth at some exuberant sally. It was not possible to have devised a merrier evening for my last.
“Here's to your guests for not turning up!” cried Teddy. “They'd only have spoiled the fun.”
“And the average of bottles per man,” added Dick.
“Yes. Thank God I am not making an inflammatory speech to Sir Henry Horley and the Bishop of Battersea!” I said. “But, my dear friends”—and here I pulled out my watch—“I fear I shall have to make a little speech as it is, a farewell oration to you. It is now half-past ten. I leave you in a few minutes.”
“The devil you do,” said Dick. “Teddy, the monsieur proposes to dismiss us. What shall we do?”