"Lammersfield will be all right," I said, with a gentle irony that was wasted on my companion. "He is in my hands."
Sangatte grinned evilly. "I thought as much. I saw you talking to him to-night. You're a good man of business, Northcote; I will say that for you."
I accepted the compliment with a gracious smile, though I felt a severe temptation to show his lordship that as a man of action I was still more accomplished. Indeed, with the honourable exception of Maurice, I had never met anyone whom I felt a more ardent desire to kick.
Blissfully unaware of his peril, Lord Sangatte helped himself to a second drink.
"I think I told you in my note," he said, "that I'd fixed up about the Seagull. That old devil, Morton, wanted a thousand for her, but I beat him down to nine hundred in the end. She's a decent boat, for her size, but—"
His interesting discourse was suddenly cut short by a discreet knock. With an irritable exclamation, he crossed the room and flung open the door.
"Well, what is it?" he demanded.
The footman, who was standing on the mat, bowed apologetically. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but her ladyship has sent me to ask you if you could come upstairs."
I regret to say that Lord Sangatte swore. "Very well," he added; "tell her I'll be up in a minute." Then, shutting the door and turning to me, he observed graciously: "I suppose I must go back and make myself pleasant to all this scum. You take the prospectus and let me know what you want altered."
I put the papers in my pocket, and followed him out into the conservatory, where, before we had taken a couple of steps, we were pounced on by a stout and elderly lady who made up for her regrettable lack of costume by an almost painful display of jewels.