"Monsieur, my master the Chevalier de Rothan cannot be agreeable to your curiosity."
Jeremy's eyes twinkled.
"Go and tell him I have ridden sixty miles to see this house. If he will give me a few minutes I can explain."
This time the man was exchanged for the master. De Rothan appeared at the porch, came slowly down the path and out into the meadow. Stateliness was the pose of the moment. An aristocrat of France came to speak with some antiquarian huckster who would force himself upon an exile's privacy.
"Sir, I wish you good day."
Jeremy took off his hat and bowed. He could be damnably urbane when he was most dangerous. De Rothan had not recognised him. Who would expect to see a fencing-master from St. James's in an out-of-the-world Sussex meadow?
"Sir, I take liberties in being here. I am one of those inquisitive persons who are interested in everything."
De Rothan looked him over with supercilious politeness.
"A very admirable state of mind, but a little embarrassing at times—to others."
"You cannot be so kind as to let me see your house, Chevalier?"