Too confounded by this unusual warning to think of any adequate retort, the Baron could only stare his sensations; while Mr. Maddison, taking up the conversation the instant his son had ceased, proceeded in a deliberate and impressive voice to say—­

“Yes, sir, my son—­and I associate myself with him —­my son and I, sir, would be happy to learn that it is not the case as here stated” (he glanced at a paper in his hand), “namely, Item 1, that you sup rather too frequently with ladies—­I beg your pardon, Count Bunker, for introducing the theme—­with ladies of the theatrical profession.”

“I!” gasped the Baron.  “I do only vish I sometimes had ze cha——­”

“Tulliwuddle!” interrupted the Count.  “Don’t let your natural indignation carry you away!  Mr. Maddison, that statement is not true.  I can vouch for it.”

“Ach, of course it is not true,” said the Baron more calmly, as he began to realize that it was not his own character that was being aspersed.

“I am very glad to hear it,” continued Mr. Maddison, who apparently did not share the full austerity of his son’s views, since without further question he hurried on to the next point.

“Item 2, sir, states that at least two West End firms are threatening you with proceedings if you do not discharge their accounts within a reasonable time.”

“A lie!” declared the Baron emphatically.

“Will you be so kind as to favor us with the name of the individual who is thus libelling his lordship?” demanded the Count with a serious air.

Mr. Maddison hastily put the paper back in his pocket, and with a glance checked his son’s gesture of protest.

“Guess we’d better pass on to the next thing, Ri.  I told you it wasn’t any darned use just asking.  But you boys always think you know better than your Poppas,” said he; and then, turning to the Count, “It isn’t worth while troubling, Count; I’ll see that these reports get contradicted, if I have to buy up a daily paper and issue it at a halfpenny.  Yes, sir, you can leave it to me.”

The Count glanced at his friend, and they exchanged a grave look.

“Again we place ourselves in your hands,” said Bunker.

Though considerably impressed with these repeated evidences of confidence on the part of two such important personages, their host nevertheless maintained something of his inquisitorial air as he proceeded—­

“For my own satisfaction, Lord Tulliwuddle, and meaning to convey no aspersion whatsoever upon your character, I would venture to inquire what are your views upon some of the current topics.  Take any one you like, sir, so long as it’s good and solid, and let me hear what you have to say about it.  What you favor us with will not be repeated beyond this room, but merely regarded by my son and myself as proving that we are getting no dunder-headed dandy for our Eleanor, but an article of real substantial value—­the kind of thing they might make into a Lord-lieutenant or a Viceroy in a bad year.”