"Why thank'ee George, no—there's my chapter on the Defects of Salient Angles d'ye see, for one thing——"
"Devil burn your salient angles!"
"But here's Tom now. Tom might join you," suggested the Major with a meaning glance at his nephew.
"'Twould be a joy, sir!" murmured the Viscount dutifully.
"Why then I'll go get into my boots," nodded the Colonel and strode from the room.
"Nunky," said the Viscount, rearranging his cravat before the mirror with scrupulous care, "there are soldiers at Sevenoaks and the man they seek lieth hid—next door, if I mistake not!"
"Art sure, Pancras?"
"I spoke with Charles himself a while since, and my lady Belinda saw the soldiers to-day. Question, what's to do, sir?"
"'Tis a problem, nephew, and one requiring a nice judgment. Let me think! Sergeant, I'll thank you for my Ramillie coat. And she hath him hid?" enquired the Major, getting into the garment in question.
"Under lock and key, nunky. Charles would have been away ere this for her sake, but she'd locked him in. You see he is still scarce recovered of his wound and hardships, and Betty is determined to keep him till he be quite strong again."