“What on earth do you know about his birth, position, or fortune beyond what he tells you himself?” remonstrated the colonel.
A look of real annoyance passed over Lord Arthur's good-humored face, as he exclaimed, with unusual asperity:
“Now, see here, Charlie, I think you have said enough. Vaugelade is a friend of mine, and I won't hear another word against him. Why, man alive, he is not poaching on your preserves. On the contrary, I am rather inclined to believe that he and Alice don't hit it off well together.”
“Shows her good sense,” interrupted Colonel Clery.
“Well, that is neither here nor there. Don't let us quarrel about it, there's a good fellow. By Jove, when you and Alice are married your house will be difficult of approach. I have never seen such people as you both are for always picking holes in everybody.”
Nothing more was said about the matter, and Colonel Clery decided to keep his own counsel in future.
A week later the colonel and Frederick both dined in Park lane, and as nobody was going out that night, the party assembled after dinner in Lady Kingsbury's boudoir and began looking over some magnificent photographs which Clery had given to Lady Alice on his return from India.
“Oh, by the by, my dear count,” said Lady Kingsbury to Frederick, who was sitting near her, “you must tell me all about that horrible story of the elephant execution which you told Pearl the other day. She has been talking so much to me about it that I am quite anxious to hear from you if it is really true. Surely it is impossible that such barbarous cruelty should still be practiced in a country over which her majesty's power extends!”
“I don't believe a word of it!” exclaimed Lady Alice, in very decided tones. “The count, as we all know, is a great hand at oriental embroidery, no matter how flimsy the fabric on which it reposes.”
“My dear,” remonstrated her mother, “how can you say such a rude thing when Monsieur de Vaugelade has assured your sister that he himself has witnessed the ghastly scene with his own eyes!”