“Oh, never mind,” said Sam impatiently. “What did Lord Tilbury want, coming down here, confound him?”
“Came to see you about something, I should think,” surmised Mr. Braddock.
“Didn’t he tell you what it was?”
“No. As a matter of fact, we’ve been chatting mostly about trousers. You haven’t got a spare pair in the house by any chance, have you?”
“Of course I have—upstairs.”
“Then I wish,” said Mr. Braddock earnestly, “that you would dig them out and give them to the old boy. He’s been trying for the last ten minutes to get me to lend him mine, and it simply can’t be done. I’ve got to be getting back to town soon to dress for dinner, and you can say what you like, a fellow buzzing along in a two-seater without any trousers on looks conspicuous.”
“Darn that fool, coming down here at just this time!” said Sam, still aggrieved. “What exactly happened?”
“Well, he’s a bit on the incoherent side; but as far as I can make out, that man of yours, the chap who called me brother, seems to have gone completely off his onion. Old Tilbury rang the front doorbell, and there was a bit of a pause, and then this chap opened the door and old Tilbury went in, and then he happened to look at him and saw that he hadn’t any trousers on.”
“That struck him as strange, of course.”
“Apparently he hadn’t much time to think about it, for the bloke immediately proceeded to hold him up with a gun.”