“Calm yourselves. I assure you——” pleaded Mr Bunker, coming hastily after them, but they were at the door before him.
The hapless Baron could stand it no longer. Crying, “No, no, it is false!” he sprang out of bed, arrayed in a tweed suit only half concealed by his night-shirt, and, forgetting all about the bath, descended with a great splash among the startled goldfish.
The Countess paused in the half-opened door and looked at him with horror that rapidly passed into intense indignation.
“I am not ill!” he cried. “It vos zat rascal Bonker’s plot. He made me! I haf not hydrophobia!”
Most unkindest cut of all, Lady Alicia went off into hysterical giggles. For a moment her mother glared at the two young men in silence, and then only remarking, “I have never been so insulted before,” she went out, and her daughter followed her.
As the door closed Mr Bunker went off into roar after [pg 160] roar of laughter, but the humorous side of the situation seemed to appeal very slightly to his injured friend.
“You rascal! you villain!” he shouted, “zis is ze end of our friendship, Bonker! Do you use ze pistols? Tell me, sare!”
“My dear Baron,” gasped Mr Bunker, “I could not put such an inartistic end to so fine a joke for the world.”
“You vill not fight? Coward! poltroon! I know not ze English name bad enoff for you!”
With difficulty Mr Bunker composed himself and replied, still smiling: “After all, Baron, what harm has been done? I get all the blame, and the sympathy you wanted is sure to turn to you.”