"And the traditions of the Saloljas in front of him," rejoined Gage.
Nevertheless, to strengthen the garrison, the local constable was sent for, and the three resumed their repast with a slightly enhanced appetite. They had arrived at the sweets stage, and Peckover was wondering whether it was the last apple-tart he was destined to taste, when a clangorous peal at the bell followed by a thundering knock at the door sent the diners' hearts into their mouths.
"If—if that is the Duke of Salolja," said Gage, sick with fear, to Bisgood, "show him into the library. Don't let him—that is, his grace, come in here."
"Very good, my lord," responded Bisgood, whose imperturbability—and immunity—he would have given a fortune to possess.
None of the three men could sit quiet. Gage, after a restless turn round the table, went to the door and listened. As he did so a shade of relief came over his face. "That's not the little brute's voice," he declared hopefully.
"Isn't it? He has got so many," Peckover said dubiously. They scuttled back to their places as the men returned.
"Mr. Carnaby Leo, my lord," Bisgood announced in a tone which suggested a month's notice on his part.
"Has he gone?"
"No, my lord. He said he must see your lordship, so I showed him into the library."
"Miss Leo is not with him?" Quorn asked anxiously.