‘Bring me a pint of bitter beer in a tankard,’ said Richard loftily.
‘Oui, m’sieu.’
He was not away more than a couple of minutes. Dick was very thirsty, and he seized the tankard eagerly.
‘Wait,’ he said laconically. Then he blew off the beads of creamy froth, raised the tankard to his lips, and slowly and deliberately proceeded to empty it.
While he was thus engaged, two ladies, followed by a maid carrying wraps and umbrellas, came round a corner of the shrubbery. They had driven from the station by way of the lower road, and hence had to walk through a portion of the grounds in order to reach the hotel.
‘A clergyman, and drinking beer out of a metal pot!’ exclaimed the elder of the two ladies. ‘What can the Establishment be coming to!’
Dick, whose back was towards the party, gave a great start and nearly dropped the tankard. ‘The dragon’s voice! I’m caught!’ Then giving the tankard back to Jules, he said with an affected lisp: ‘Thank you very much, my friend. On a sultry day like this, nothing can be more refreshing than a little iced lemonade.’
‘Lemonade! Ah-ha; monsieur s’amuse,’ murmured Jules with a slight lifting of the shoulders as he took back the tankard and marched away.
‘After all, dear, he was drinking nothing stronger than lemonade,’ remarked the elder lady, who was none other than Lady Renshaw, in a low voice to her niece. ‘No doubt he acquired the habit of drinking out of pewter while at college. I am told that they have many strange customs at the universities, which have been handed down from more barbarous times.—An interesting-looking young man.’
‘Very,’ assented Miss Wynter, who had started at the first sound of Dick’s voice, and was now looking inquiringly at him. ‘That voice!’ she said to herself. ‘I could fancy that it was Dick—I mean Mr Dulcimer, who was speaking. But that is impossible. And yet’——