“Is this gentleman a friend of yours, Spennie?” inquired Lady Julia politely, eyeing the red-haired speaker coldly.
“It’s——”
He looked appealingly at Jimmy.
“It’s my man,” said Jimmy. “Spike,” he added, in an undertone, “to the woods. Chase yourself. Fade away.”
“Sure,” said the abashed Spike. “Dat’s right. It ain’t up to me to come buttin’ in. Sorry, boss. Sorry, gents. Sorry, loidy. Me for the tall grass.”
“There’s a luggage cart of sorts,” said Lord Dreever, pointing.
“Sure,” said Spike, affably. He trotted away.
“Jump in, Pitt,” said Lord Dreever. “I’m going to walk.”
“No, I’ll walk,” said Jimmy. “I’d rather. I want a bit of exercise. Which way do I go?”
“Frightfully good of you, old chap,” said Lord Dreever. “Sure you don’t mind? I do bar walking. Right-O! You keep straight on.”