Lord Hunstanton's aching interior urged him to protest. "Be brave!" it gurgled. And, whilst still not sufficiently courageous to defy, he nerved himself to make a suggestion.
"How would it be," he said, "if I just pushed round the corner somewhere and snatched a bite? I mean to say, you never know whether this man-servant fellow won't turn nasty. Sticking up for the young master, I mean to say. In which case, I should be twice the man with a bit of food inside me. With a dish of beans or something nicely poised within, I could do my bit."
Mrs. Waddington regarded him scornfully.
"Very well. But kindly return as soon as possible."
"Oh, I will, by Jove! Just want to pack away a hasty prune. I'll be back before you know I've gone."
"You will find me on the roof."
"On the roof. Right! Well, tinkety-tonk, then, for the moment," said his lordship, and pattered off down the stairs.
Mrs. Waddington mounted another flight, and came out under the broad canopy of heaven. She found herself with a choice of views, the glittering city that stretched away below and the dark windows of the Finch lair. She chose the windows and watched them narrowly.
She had been watching them for some considerable time, when suddenly the middle ones, the French windows, lit up. And, as she stepped forward, her rosiest dreams were realised. Across the yellow blind there passed a shadow which was plainly that of a young female person, no doubt of a grade of morality so low that in any other place but Washington Square it would have provoked the raised eyebrow and the sharp intake of the breath. Mrs. Waddington advanced to the window and tapped upon it imperiously.
There was a startled exclamation from within. The blind shot up, revealing a stoutish man in sober black. The next moment the window was opened, and the stoutish man popped his head out.