"Well—er—well, that's all," said Chloe, rather crestfallen.
The Duke's jaw fell several inches.
"All! Oh, come, I say, hang it, you're pulling all our legs!"
"Pulling all your—oh, indeed, I'm not! Why should I do such a thing? I do assure you, Duke——"
"But, hang it, your story'd do for a school treat or a grandmothers' meeting. That's not the sort of thing Rodney cares for—eh, Rodney?" and his Grace was good enough to dig the owner of Mitching Dean in his eminently respectable ribs. Mr. Rodney started, and broke the frail back of the small chair on which he was sitting. "Smashing up the furniture now, after trying to set the whole place on fire," cried the Duke, just as Mr. Harrison was in course of stealing back cautiously to his lair among the organ-pedals.
The groom of the chambers heard the sentence with bristling horror, and immediately made off once more to the telephone, through which he proceeded to deliver the following remarks to the fishing-cottage:
"After setting fire to the 'ouse—oh, most decidedly, sir!—Mr. Rodney is now smashing up of Mrs. Lite's own particular chairs—oh, indeed! And the Duke, ma'am, is splitting his sides with laughture while he done it. I am keeping an eye on him according to your instructions, sir, and to my latest breath will do so, though what will become of us all, ma'am, is more than anyone can say—oh, indeed, I do assure you on every account whatever!"
On hearing this peaceful catalogue of facts, the Emperor and Empress engaged Mr. Harrison in animated conversation for the space of perhaps an hour and a half, during which time events were moving forward in the palace with some rapidity. In answer to the Duke, Mr. Rodney forced a ghastly smile, and answered hoarsely:
"An accident! merely an unlucky accident, Duke! I shall make it good to Mr. Lite."
"If you don't he'll probably skin you," said his Grace. "He's so tetchy."