“Ha, is zat so?” said the Baron. “Zen vill I go. Good night!” he cried, waving his hand to the room generally. “Ven you gom to Bavaria you most all shoot vid me. Bravo, my goot Bonker! Ha! ha!”
As they turned away from the table, one of the young men, who had been looking very hard at Mr Bunker, rose and touched his sleeve.
“I say, aren’t you——?” he began.
“Possibly I am,” interrupted Mr Bunker, “only I haven’t the slightest recollection of the fact.”
An astonished lady was indicated by Mr Bunker as the hostess, and to her the Baron bade an affectionate adieu. He handed a sovereign to the footman, embraced the butler, and as they sped eastwards in their hansom, a rousing chorus from the two friends awoke the echoes of Piccadilly.
“Bravo, Bonker! Himmel, I haf enjoyed myself!” sighed the exhausted Baron.
CHAPTER VII.
The Baron and Mr Bunker discussed a twelve o’clock breakfast with the relish of men who had done a good night’s work. The Baron was full of his exploits. “Ze lofly Lady Hilton” and his new “friends” seemed to have made a vivid impression.
“Zey vill be in ze Park to-day, of course?” he suggested.