“How horrible!” exclaimed Lady Margaret. “Why, the man must have been a perfect monster!”
“Not in appearance, at any rate. He was a very good-looking fellow—remarkably handsome—not very tall, but of aristocratic bearing, with small hands and feet, large, soft black eyes, and a black mustache. Yes, I remember him perfectly now!”
At this juncture Frederick, who had risen, glanced at the clock, and, addressing Lady Kingsbury, said, apologetically:
“I am afraid that this interesting story has made me forget how late the hour is. I must pray you to excuse me and to permit me to take my leave.”
“Why, it is actually 2 o'clock!” exclaimed the marchioness. “I had no idea it was so late. Good-night, my dear count. Do come to luncheon to-morrow. You know that you promised to accompany us to the exhibition of water-colors in the afternoon. I am so anxious to hear your opinion about our English pictures.”
After duly expressing his thanks and acceptance of the invitation, and, after bidding adieu, Frederick was moving toward the door, accompanied by Lord Arthur, when Colonel Clery called out to him:
“Wait a moment for me, count. I will walk part of the way with you, if you will allow it. I have got to go, too.”
Frederick bowed his assent, and the two men went down stairs together, Lord Arthur calling after them over the balustrades.
“Dolce repose, Charlie; don't dream of all these blood-and-thunder stories, and don't treat poor Vaugelade to any more of them on his way home. You are enough to give a fellow the creeps.”