"Certainly, sir," said Harry, wondering very much why his master was looking for it over the balusters of the servants' staircase. He turned back to usher his master to the green bedroom, and Mr. Rodney followed him in the deepest perplexity. What was this about James Bush? What was the man's record? Of what nature was his history? Did the exiled Bun Emperor know more of him than met the eye? Did——
"This is your room, sir," said Harry, throwing open a green door.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Verulam and Chloe had secured a moment to themselves in one of the winter gardens.
"I say," said the latter, "Mr. Rodney's getting very officious, almost as bad as that horrid little Mr. Ingerstall. He wants Harry to shave me!"
"What?" cried Mrs. Verulam, dropping a lump of sugar, by means of which she was tampering with one of the Bun Empress's favourites, much to the gratification of that individual.
"He does!"
"Harry!"
"His man."
"Don't let him, Chloe. Don't be shaved. Let me imp——"