"With a howl he went down on his knees, and with another he begged for mercy."
The ever-alert duke opened it, as though nothing unusual were occurring, giving entrance to Miss Leo, who with a manly stride came in only to stand dumfounded before the abject spectacle of her brother's abasement.
"Carnaby!" she cried in a voice calculated to put fire into a lump of wet clay. "You great oaf! What fool's game is this?"
The duke explained. "It is simply the result of a slight personal difference between his grace and my humble self."
"Get up, you great booby!" Lalage commanded, naturally thinking that the slight personal difference between the two men should have reversed their positions.
"Stay where you are," cried the duke in his most stentorian tones. And Mr. Leo stayed.
"Quorn! At last!" The cry came in a tone of menacing rapture from Lalage who had now found time to glance round the table.
"Hold on!" was that nobleman's chilling response, as he rose and stretched out a fending hand in front of him.
"My Quorn!" repeated Miss Leo with native tenacity.