“Just so, just so!” cried the Chamberlain, and cleared his throat. “I but mentioned his name to make it plain that his claim to the old title in no way implicated him. A man of great heart, as you say, though with a reputation for oddity. If I were not the well-wisher of his house, I could make some trouble about his devotion to the dress and arms forbidden here to all but those in the king's service, as I am myself, being major of the local Fencibles. And—by the Lord! here's MacCailen!”
They had by this time entered the policies of the Duke. A figure walked alone in the obscurity, with arms in a characteristic fashion behind its back, going in the direction they themselves were taking. For a second or two the Chamberlain hesitated, then formed his resolution.
“I shall introduce you,” he said to Count Victor. “It may be of some service afterwards.”
The Duke turned his face in the darkness, and, as they came alongside, recognised his Chamberlain.
“Good evening, good evening!” he cried cheerfully. “'Art a late bird, as usual, and I am at that pestilent task the rehearsal of a speech.”
“Your Grace's industry is a reproach to your Grace's Chamberlain,” said the latter. “I have been at the speech-making myself, partly to a lady.”
“Ah, Mr. MacTaggart!” cried the Duke in a comical expostulation.
“And partly to this unfortunate friend of mine, who must fancy us a singularly garrulous race this side of the German Ocean. May I introduce M. Montaiglon, who is at the inn below, and whom it has been my good fortune to meet for the first time to-night?”
Argyll was most cordial to the stranger, who, however, took the earliest opportunity to plead fatigue and return to his inn. He had no sooner retired than the Duke expressed some natural curiosity.
“It cannot be the person you desired for the furnishing of our tolbooth the other day, Sim?” said he.