"Don't call him Mr. Shaw. Just Shaw; he's no gentleman," exploded
Lord Bazelhurst.
"But he told us both to call him 'Mister,' sir, as long as we lived. I kinder got in the habit of it, your lordship, up there. That is, that's what he told us after he got through with us. Well, anyhow, he got the start of us an'—there's Tompkins' eyes, sir, and look at my ear. Then he pitched us both in the river."
"Good Lord!" gasped the duke.
"Diable!" sputtered the count.
"Splendid!" cried Penelope, her eyes sparkling.
"Hang it all, Pen, don't interrupt the count," snorted Bazelhurst, for want of something better to say and perhaps hoping that Deveaux might say in French what could not be uttered in English.
"Don't say it in French, count," said little Miss Folsom. "It deserves
English."
"Go on, James," sternly, from Lady Bazelhurst.
"Well, neither of us can swim, your ladyship, an' we'd 'a' drowned if Mr.—if Shaw hadn't jumped in himself an' pulled us out. As it was, sir, Tompkins was unconscious. We rolled him on a log, sir, an' got a keg of water out of him. Then Mr.—er—Shaw told us to go 'ome and get in bed, sir."
"He sent a message to you, sir," added Tompkins, shivering mightily.