The lad, eager to earn a trifle, at once consented, and descending, I entered the shop, the door of which was being still held open for me, while the Count hailed a hansom and drove away.
The shop is one of the finest in Bond Street, as you know. At that moment there were, however, no other customers. The manager politely invited me to be seated, saying—
“His lordship will only be a short time,” and then, standing with his hands behind his back, he commenced to chat with me.
“That’s a very fine car of yours,” he said. “You ought to be able to travel pretty fast, eh?”
“Well, we do, as a matter of fact,” I replied.
Then he went to the door, and looking over the panes of frosted glass, asked what horse-power it was, and a number of other questions with which non-motorists always plague the chauffeur.
Then, returning to me, he remarked what a very nice gentleman his lordship was, adding that he had been a customer on several occasions.
“Have you been long in his service?” he inquired.
“Oh yes,” I replied, determined not to be thought a new hand. “Quite a long time. As you say, he is a very charming man.”