Mr. Townsend scribbled a few words on a page of his pocket-book. Tearing out the leaf, he handed it to Lord Archibald Beaupré.
"Give her that. Not necessarily at once, but some time when the thing's all over. And tell her----" He stopped; then, with a smile, went on, "Yes, tell her that I loved her, but that already, when my love for her was born, it was too late."
"I'll tell her. What are you going to do yourself?"
"Do? Wait; they'll soon be here. I have one or two matters which will occupy me till they come. Good-bye."
He held out his hand. The other grasped it in his own.
"By ----, Reggie, I had almost sooner that it had been I."
"Don't be an ass, dear boy. Slip across the water till the wind has blown a little of the dust away."
He nodded, moved quickly across the pavement, and disappeared into the house. Lord Archibald Beaupré was left standing in the street, clutching the sheet of paper tightly in his hand.
As Mr. Townsend entered a woman came forward to greet him. She wore an air of considerable concern.
"Oh, Mr. Townsend, sir, I'm so glad it's you. Burton's out, and something has happened which has quite upset me.