“Four maids, my lord, and old Jean.”

Again he meditated; then he said sharply: 

“Have you ever waited at table?”

We have all, I suppose, waited at table—­in one sense.  Perhaps that may save my remark from untruth.

“Now and then, my lord,” I answered, wondering what he would be at.

“I have guests arriving to-morrow,” he said.  “My man comes with them, but the work will perhaps be too much for him.  Are you willing to stay and help?  I will pay you the same wages.”

I could have laughed in his face; but duty seemed to point to seriousness.

“I’m very sorry, my lord—­” I began.

“What, have you got another place?”

“No, my lord; not exactly.”

“Then get up on the front seat.  Or do you want your employers to say you are disobliging as well as drunken?”

“But the lady sent me—­”

“You may leave that to me.  Come, jump up!  Don’t keep me waiting!”

Doubtfully I stood in the road, the duke glaring at me with impatient anger.  Then he leaned forward and said: 

“You are curiously reluctant, sir, to earn your living.  I don’t understand it.  I must make some inquiries about you.”

I detected suspicion dawning in his eyes.  He was a great man; I did not know what hindrances he might not be able to put in the way of my disappearance.  And what would happen if he made his inquiries?  Inquiries might mean searching, and I carried a passport in the name of Gilbert Aycon.

Such share had prudence; the rest must be put down to the sudden impulse of amusement which seized me.  It was but for a day or two!  Then I could steal away.  Meanwhile what would not the face of the duchess say, when I rode up on the front seat!

“I—­I was afraid I should not give satisfaction,” I muttered.

“You probably won’t,” said he.  “I take you from necessity, not choice, my friend.  Up with you!”

And I got up beside the driver—­not, luckily, the one who had brought Gustave de Berensac and myself the day before—­and the carriage resumed its slow climb up the hill.

We stopped at the door.  I jumped down and assisted my new master.

The door was shut.  Nobody was to be seen; evidently we were not expected.  The duke smiled sardonically, opened the door and walked in, I just behind.  Suzanne was sweeping the floor.  With one glance at the duke and myself, she sprang back, with a cry of most genuine surprise.

“Oh, you’re mighty surprised, aren’t you?” sneered the duke.  “Old Jean didn’t scuttle away to tell you then?  You keep a good watch, young woman.  Your mistress’ orders, eh?”

Still Suzanne stared—­and at me.  The duke chuckled.

“Yes, he’s back again,” said he, “so you must make the best of it, my girl.  Where’s the duchess?”

“In—­in—­in her sitting-room, M. le Duc.”

“‘In—­in—­in,’” he echoed mockingly.  Then he stepped swiftly across the hall and flung the door suddenly open.  I believe he thought that he really had surprised Jean’s slow aged scamper ahead of him.