“Don’t be an ass!” said Peter Hope.
“I’m not an ass,” assured him Joseph Loveredge. “He is wintering in Egypt. You have run back for a week to attend to business. There is no Lady Adelaide, so that’s quite simple.”
“But what in the name of—” began Peter Hope.
“Don’t you see what I’m driving at?” persisted Joey. “It was Jack’s idea at the beginning. I was frightened myself at first, but it is working to perfection. She sees you, and sees that you are a gentleman. When the truth comes out—as, of course, it must later on—the laugh will be against her.”
“You think—you think that’ll comfort her?” suggested Peter Hope.
“It’s the only way, and it is really wonderfully simple. We never mention the aristocracy now—it would be like talking shop. We just enjoy ourselves. You, by the way, I met in connection with the movement for rational dress. You are a bit of a crank, fond of frequenting Bohemian circles.”
“I am risking something, I know,” continued Joey; “but it’s worth it. I couldn’t have existed much longer. We go slowly, and are very careful. Jack is Lord Mount-Primrose, who has taken up with anti-vaccination and who never goes out into Society. Somerville is Sir Francis Baldwin, the great authority on centipedes. The Wee Laddie is coming next week as Lord Garrick, who married that dancing-girl, Prissy Something, and started a furniture shop in Bond Street. I had some difficulty at first. She wanted to send out paragraphs, but I explained that was only done by vulgar persons—that when the nobility came to you as friends, it was considered bad taste. She is a dear girl, as I have always told you, with only one fault. A woman easier to deceive one could not wish for. I don’t myself see why the truth ever need come out—provided we keep our heads.”
“Seems to me you’ve lost them already,” commented Peter; “you’re overdoing it.”
“The more of us the better,” explained Joey; “we help each other. Besides, I particularly want you in it. There’s a sort of superior Pickwickian atmosphere surrounding you that disarms suspicion.”
“You leave me out of it,” growled Peter.