The Duke of Salolja who had endured this discussion with ill concealed impatience, now spoke again.
"Then it is one of these gentlemen who is really Lord Quorn, eh, constable?"
"Detective-Inspector, if your grace has no objection," was the withering correction. After giving the same time to take effect, he addressed himself to deal with the question. "As to which of these gentlemen is his lordship, I do not, in the absence of any stated charge or legal reason feel myself called upon to decide. Speaking unofficially and without prejudice, I should, if interrogated, incline to the opinion that this gentleman," he indicated Gage with a passing and casual wave of his pocket-book on the way to its resting-place in his coat-tail, "would answer to the description. But I have no locus standi in the dispute, and therefore merely express an opinion, as a matter of courtesy, that if the question of identity should be gone into, the gentleman by the palm-stand may possibly be found to be Lord Quorn." After which impressive and useful dictum he bid the party "Good evening," and took a somewhat abrupt departure, fearful, perhaps, of being led into giving an opinion which might at some future time be inconveniently used against him.
As the door closed on him Lady Ormstork said, in a tone of repressed and compromising exasperation, "This is altogether a most extraordinary, unheard-of proceeding. Perhaps by to-morrow more sensible counsels will have prevailed, and we shall know who is and who is not Lord Quorn. But," she added significantly, "I do not overlook the fact that each one of you gentlemen, and consequently whichever of you bears the title, has proposed an alliance between himself and Miss Buffkin. Is that not so, Ulrica, dear?"
"Yes; they've all said as much," replied that young lady casually.
"So?" The Salolja growl reverberated through the room like the first muttering of thunder.
"And," concluded Lady Ormstork, ignoring the minatory rumble, "Miss Buffkin will marry whichever of you turns out, when this absurd mystery is solved, to be Lord Quorn."
"Will she?" observed the duke from the depths of his thickset throat.
"Undoubtedly," was the determined and conclusive reply. "Come, dear. We must be getting home."
"I shall," said the duke, suddenly galvanizing himself into his native politeness, "do myself the distinguished honour of constituting myself your graces' escort. Have I the much prized permission?"