"You don't know who that is?" he whispered, nodding towards the young man.
"No gendleman he is," asserted the head-waiter. "Der gendleman would not der gat into—"
Psmith shook his head pityingly.
"These petty matters of etiquette are not for his Grace—but, hush, he wishes to preserve his incognito."
"Ingognito?"
"You understand. You are a man of the world, Comrade—may I call you Freddie? You understand, Comrade Freddie, that in a man in his Grace's position a few little eccentricities may be pardoned. You follow me, Frederick?"
The head-waiter's eye rested upon the young man with a new interest and respect.
"He is noble?" he inquired with awe.
"He is here strictly incognito, you understand," said Psmith warningly. The head-waiter nodded.
The young man meanwhile had broken down the cat's reserve, and was now standing with her in his arms, apparently anxious to fight all-comers in her defence. The head-waiter approached deferentially.