"My dear Datchet, the man's already driving his geegee off its legs. If a bobby catches sight of him he'll take his number."
A moment later, a murmur from the Duke:
"I don't know if you're aware that the Prince is coming to dinner?"
"I am perfectly aware of it."
"You take it uncommonly coolly. How easy it is to bear our brother's burdens! Ivor, if Mabel doesn't turn up I shall feel like murder."
"I sympathise with you, Datchet, with all my heart, though, I may observe, parenthetically, that I very far from realise the situation even yet. Take my advice. If the Duchess does not show quite so soon as we both of us desire, don't make a scene; just let me see what I can do."
Judging from the expression of his countenance, the Duke was conscious of no overwhelming desire to witness an exhibition of Mr. Dacre's prowess.
When the cab reached Datchet House his Grace dashed up the steps three at a time. The door flew open.
"Has the Duchess returned?"
"Hereward!"