A purist might have said he spoke gruffly and without geniality. But that is the beauty of these old retainers. They make a point of deliberately trying to deceive strangers as to the goldenness of their hearts by adopting a forbidding manner. And "Good morning!" Not "Good morning, sir!" Sturdy independence, you observe, as befits a free man. George closed the door carefully. He glanced into the kitchen. Mrs. Platt was not there. All was well.
"You have brought a note from Lady Maud?"
The honest fellow's rather dour expression seemed to grow a shade bleaker.
"If you are alluding to Lady Maud Marsh, my daughter," he replied frostily, "I have not!"
For the past few days George had been no stranger to shocks, and had indeed come almost to regard them as part of the normal everyday life; but this latest one had a stumbling effect.
"I beg your pardon?" he said.
"So you ought to," replied the earl.
George swallowed once or twice to relieve a curious dryness of the mouth.
"Are you Lord Marshmoreton?"
"I am."