"Beautifully. I've got a quiet conscience."
She threw this last at the Duke with a tiny sneer, which curled her little withered face grotesquely. The Duke got the red-hot poker ready.
"Someone in the house hasn't, I fancy," he said, drawling out his words, and fixing his eyes like an actor about to make a point to the gallery; "someone in the house is of a very restless temperament."
Lady Drake looked at him with the sudden sharpness of a mouse on the alert.
"Oh!" she cried, "there are always noises in a big house at night—furniture cracks."
"Yes," said the Duke, bringing the poker forward. "And armchairs scream, don't they? I've often noticed it."
Lady Drake winked her little eyes rapidly, and the pale yellow of her complexion began to change to a very delicate green, like the leaf of a blanched lettuce.
"And," his Grace continued, with most delicate raillery, "sofas sit on the floor, and then run upstairs like express trains if they're startled, don't they? I should like to see Wardour Street at—let us say half-past three to four in the morning."
The policeman was frizzling. Lady Drake let her cutlet get as cold as she was.
"I see you believe in table-turning," said Mr. Rodney to the Duke. His mind was still in a confusion, and he was only half following the conversation. "Animal magnetism is very remarkable—very," he added mildly.