"They all look like third-rate detectives," said the Duke, who was well acquainted with that class of society, having been shadowed off and on for years by agents acting for anxious husbands suspicious of his clown's manner with their wives.
These words, at which most of the company were good enough to laugh, sent a cold shiver down Chloe's back. Detectives! She glanced at the gardeners, and in an instant sprang to the conclusion that they were the emissaries of Huskinson, who had bribed the Bun Emperor's servants to let them in, disguised, to the domain of Ribton Marches. Were not their ten eyes fastened upon her? Her legs trembled in their trousers. The Cinderella clock seemed striking. She felt that she was pale, and the laughter of those around her sounded hollow and mirthless. Did these men, skulking in their disguise of gardeners, recognise her for what she was—a woman? The idea made her hot. She fancied she saw the laurustinus man smile. He knew. The rose-tree man passed his hand across his face—to hide a laugh, no doubt. The roller couple bent down, and sent their machine over a quantity of blowing pinks. Chloe felt certain that their attitude was one of ridicule making for concealment. Had she been underneath the copper beech, her mind would have been relieved, for she would have heard the voice of Mr. Harrison saying to the Emperor's head-gardener:
"Them is Mr. Lite's orders, and must be carried out—oh, indeed!"
"I cawn't abear it—I cawn't abear it!" sobbed the head-gardener. "Only look at 'um a rolling of the jerryaneeums and a rooting up of the roses! I cawn't abear it!"
"You must abear it, Gummill," rejoined Mr. Harrison, with stern resolution. "Mr. Lite says to me: 'Mr. Harrison, get down detectives—oh, most decidedly—by all means, get 'em down! Plant them here and there about the garden, place them to and fro about the house, and don't let them be knowst. If them Londoners,' he says, 'get up to their tricks, I'll have the law on 'em, I will, and on you I depend, Mr. Harrison, to get proper witnesses as will convict judge and jury.' Them men"—he pointed to the gardeners—"will convict any judge and jury; so abear it you must, Gummill—oh, most certainly, indeed, on every account whatever."
And with this exhortation he turned from the sobbing under-strapper and walked towards the palace, turning out his feet as he proceeded, and assuming, as he threaded his way among the detectives, a solemn dignity that was undoubtedly Jove-like.
The Duke of Southborough, when he had closely observed the Duchess's party of mesmerists, felt quite certain as to their calling, but, being a vain man, he mistook the reason of their presence; and while Chloe supposed them to be at Ribton Marches on her account, he had no doubt that they were watching him. He had a notion now that he had seen them at the races hovering about his steps. Honest men! He enjoyed such little attentions, and could not resist tipping Mr. James Bush the wink as the party rose from tea, and Mr. Bush lumbered at his side smoking a huge cigar presented to him by one of the men-servants; therefore the Duke nudged the paragon slyly in the ribs with his elbow, and said:
"See those men?"
"Eh?" said Mr. Bush.