"Do you know which of the gentlemen here is Mr. James Bush?" said the Duke, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"Ain't he the thin gent as Smithers set to and soaked this afternoon, sir?" murmured Bliggins.
The Duke jumped, and casting a searching glance upon Bliggins, was suddenly aware that he was the self-conscious gardener who had been behaving with levity among the sunflowers in the afternoon. His Grace bit his moustache and pulled his pantaloon's beard. This fact certainly complicated the situation.
"H'm!" he muttered.
"Beg pardon, sir?"
"Can you serve two masters, Mr. Bliggins?" asked the Duke.
"I can, sir," replied Bliggins, again looking very hungry—"if I'm paid in a proper manner for so doing, as you might say."
The Duke suddenly made up his mind.
"Very well," he said. "First let me say I know you; you're a detective, and you've been put here to watch me. Be quiet, man! I ought to know a third-rate detective by this time, considering that for five-and-forty years——But that is no matter. Lord Arthur Kempton's your employer, no doubt, or Sir John Milton. Hold your tongue; I've no time to hear your lies! Watch me as much as you like, but"—here his Grace let Mr. Bliggins feel the sovereign—"keep an eye on the gentleman with the red beard and——"
"Him as pulled the cutlet off the lady as Wilker dropped on her?"