'Is that the feller?'
'Yes, your lordship.'
'Then bring him in, Fotheringay.'
'Very good, your lordship.'
Lancelot found himself in a small, comfortably-furnished room, confronting a dignified-looking old man with a patrician nose and small side-whiskers, who looked like something that long ago had come out of an egg.
'Afternoon,' said this individual.
'Good afternoon, Lord Biddlecombe,' said Lancelot.
'Now, about these trousers.'
'I beg your pardon?'
'These trousers,' said the other, extending a shapely leg. 'Do they fit? Aren't they a bit baggy round the ankles? Won't they jeopardize my social prestige if I am seen in them in the Park?'