When, after the applause which greeted this imposing display, the gas was turned up, the first sight which met Miss Jill’s eyes was the form of Mr Robert Ratman, in travelling costume, nodding familiarly across the room.
At the sight the little lady’s face blanched, and the joy of the evening vanished like smoke.
“Oh, Duke!” she exclaimed, clinging to her guest’s arm, “do please turn that wicked man there out of the house. We didn’t invite him, and he’s no right, really. If dear Mr Armstrong was only here! Please put him out.”
The duke looked a little blank at this appeal.
“Why, child, really? Who is he?” he asked.
“A wicked, bad man, that I hate; and I did think you would be kind enough to—”
“What is his name?”
“Mr Ratman; he hurt me awfully once.”
The duke, feeling that Miss Oliphant’s party was taking rather a serious turn, walked across the room to where Mr Ratman was already engaged in an uncomfortable colloquy with Dr Brandram.
“What are you doing here?” the doctor had asked.