The Duchess disappeared. When she had gone the Duke not only closed the door behind her, but he stood with his back against the door which he had closed. His manner, all at once, was scarcely genial.
"Now, what shall I do with you, gentlemen? You come to my house and charge the Duchess of Datchet with having been a constant visitor at your shop for the purpose of robbing you, and it turns out that you have actually never seen the Duchess of Datchet in your lives until this moment."
"But," gasped Mr. Ruby, "that--that is not the lady who came to our establishment, and--and called herself the Duchess of Datchet."
"Well, sir, and what has that to do with me? Am I responsible for the proceedings of every sharper who comes to your shop and chooses to call herself the Duchess of Datchet? I should advise you, in future, before advancing reckless charges, to make some enquiries into the bona fides of your customers, Mr. Ruby. Now, gentlemen, you may go."
The Duke held the door wide open, invitingly. Mr. Golden caught his partner by the sleeve, as though he feared that he would, with undue celerity, accept the invitation.
"Hardly, your Grace, there is still something which we wish to say to you." The Duke of Datchet shut the door again.
"Then say it. Only say it, if possible, in such a manner as not to compel me to--kick you, Mr. Golden."
"Your Grace will believe that in anything I have said, or in anything which I am to say, nothing is further from my wish than to cause your Grace annoyance. But, on the other hand, surely your Grace is too old, and too good a customer of our house, to wish to see us ruined."
"I had rather, Mr. Golden, see you ruined ten thousand times over than that you should ruin my wife's fair fame."
Mr. Golden hesitated; he seemed to perceive that the Duke's retort was not irrelevant. He turned to Mr. Ruby.