“You’re just too late, sir,” said Richard; “he was here a moment ago.”
I decided to wait.
“I wonder if he’ll be back soon.”
“He’s probably downstairs. His call is in another two minutes.”
I went downstairs, and waited on the prompt side. Sir Boyle Roche’s bird was sedentary compared with this elusive man.
Presently he appeared.
“Hullo, dear old boy,” he said. “Welcome to Elsmore. Come and see me before you go, will you? I’ve got an idea for a song.”
“I say,” I said, as he flitted past, “can I——”
“Tell me later on.”
And he sprang on to the stage.