"It is possible that your ladyship and I may meet in the Elysian Fields before long," resumed the earl, speaking in a slow, calm way, very unusual with him. "Time flies, and none of us grow younger. I suppose they keep a list of the latest arrivals of persons of distinction. If they do, I shall not fail to consult it frequently, and look out for your ladyship's arrival."
"This is terrible," muttered the countess to herself. "The man is a perfect heathen."
After a little while the countess said, "If there is anything I can do for you--if there are any little wishes or commissions you would like to have attended to, I need hardly say that you may command me in any way."
"You are very kind," said the earl, and then, after a moment's pause, he added, dryly--"as you have always been. But any little wants or wishes of mine will naturally receive attention at the hands of my son, Lord Shoreham."
"Your son! Lord Shoreham!" gasped the countess, as she rose slowly to her feet, and drew herself up to her fullest height.
"Precisely so. I am expecting him every minute. I shall be happy to introduce him to your ladyship."
Words would be powerless to express a tithe of what the dowager felt. For a little while her wrath was speechless because it was too deep for utterance. Her face looked like that of some fabled witch, with its expression of concentrated venom and suppressed rage. Her head began to wag portentously, and in a little while her tongue recovered from its temporary paralysis.
"A son, eh?" she cried, and her voice rose to a half-shriek. "So, then, you die as you have lived--a swindler to the last!"
"No missiles from your tongue, madam, can reach me now," said the earl, with an easy smile. "I have got beyond their range. Your ladyship's cunning has overreached itself and fallen on the other side."
At this moment there came a tap at the door, and the head of the nurse was intruded into the room. "Mr. Clement Fildew to see your lordship," she said, in appropriately subdued tones.