The attorney almost fell on his knees.  ‘Sir George!’ he screamed.  ’My dear Sir George!  Honoured sir, believe me I am innocent of any ill-meaning.’

‘Tut-tut!’ said Sir George, who might have just stepped out of his dressing-closet instead of his carriage, so perfect was his array, from the ruffles that fell gracefully over his wrists to the cravat that supported his chin.  ‘Tut-tut!  Lord, man, what is the meaning of this?’

‘We are going to see,’ the landlord answered drily, forestalling the lawyer’s reply.  ‘I have sent for the constable, Sir George.’

‘But, Sir George, you’ll speak for us?’ Mr. Fishwick cried piteously, cutting the other short in his turn.  ’You will speak for us?  You know me.  You know that I am a respectable man.  Oh, dear me, if this were told in Wallingford!’ he continued; ’and I have a mother aged seventy!  It is a mistake—­a pure mistake, as I am prepared to prove.  I appeal to you, sir.  Both I and my friends—­’

He was stopped on that word; and very strangely.  The girl turned on him, her cheeks scarlet.  ‘For shame!’ she cried with indignation that seemed to her hearers inexplicable.  ‘Be silent, will you?’

Sir George stared with the others.  ‘Oh!’ said Lady Dunborough, ’so you have found your voice, have you, miss—­now that there is a gentleman here?’

‘But—­what is it all about?’ Sir George asked.

‘They took your rooms, sir,’ the landlord explained respectfully.

‘Pooh! is that all?’ Soane answered contemptuously.  What moved him he could not tell; but in his mind he had chosen his side.  He did not like Lady Dunborough.

‘But they are not,’ the landlord objected, ’they are not the persons they say they are, Sir George.’

‘Chut!’ said Soane carelessly.  ’I know this person, at any rate.  He is respectable enough.  I don’t understand it at all.  Oh, is that you, Thomasson?’

Mr. Thomasson had fallen back a pace on Sir George’s entrance; but being recognised he came forward.  ’I think that you will acknowledge, my dear sir,’ he said persuasively—­and his tone was very different from that which he had taken ten minutes earlier—­’that at any rate—­they are not proper persons to sit down with her ladyship.’

‘But why should they sit down with her?’ said Sir George the fashionable, slightly raising his eyebrows.

‘Hem—­Sir George, this is Lady Dunborough,’ replied Mr. Thomasson, not a little embarrassed.

Soane’s eyes twinkled as he returned the viscountess’s glance.  But he bowed profoundly, and with a sweep of his hat that made the rustics stare.  ‘Your ladyship’s most humble servant,’ he said.  ’Allow me to hope that Mr. Dunborough is perfectly recovered.  Believe me, I greatly regretted his mischance.’

But Lady Dunborough was not so foolish as to receive his overtures according to the letter.  She saw plainly that he had chosen his side—­the impertinent fop, with his airs and graces!—­and she was not to be propitiated.  ‘Pray leave my son’s name apart,’ she answered, tossing her head contemptuously.  ’After what has happened, sir, I prefer not to discuss him with you.’