"Don't know, sir."
"Who was on duty here?"
"Charles, sir," chimed the chorus.
"Where is he?"
The music died in a last tinkling "Kuk-kuk." And then, as the minstrel swung round to face his audience, the whole company heard the beating on the great door.
"That," said Dick with a wave of his baton towards it, "is Charles."
While George stared heavily at the intruder's battle-worn visage, the second footman flung open the door.
With a face livid and distorted by passion, Charles made a rush at his enemy—to be brought up short by the sight of his master, wringing the rascal's hand and patting his disgraceful shoulder.
"You silly goat," were all the words George could find for his laughter.
"I had to see you," said Dick. "And I do."