“Eh!” Mr. Manners ejaculated, and then came to an abrupt pause, while I wondered whether the shot had told.  To relieve him I inquired after Mrs. Manners’s health.

“Ah, to be sure,” he replied, beginning to fumble in his skirts; “London agrees with her remarkably, and she is better than she has been for years.  And she is overjoyed at your most wonderful escape, Richard, as are we all.”

And he gave me a note.  I concealed my eagerness as I took it and broke the seal, to discover that it was not from Dorothy, but from Mrs. Manners herself.

“My dear Richard” (so it ran), “I thank God with your dear Grandfather over y’r Deliverance, & you must bring y’r Deliverer, whom Dorothy describes as Courtly and Gentlemanly despite his Calling, to dine with us this very Day, that we may express to him our Gratitude.  I know you are far too Sensible not to come to Arlington Street.  I subscribe myself, Richard, y’r sincere Friend,

“Margaretmanners.”

There was not so much as a postscript from Dolly, as I had hoped.  But the letter was whole-souled, like Mrs. Manners, and breathed the affection she had always had for me.  I honoured her the more that she had not attempted to excuse Mr. Manners’s conduct.

“You will come, Richard?” cried Mr. Marmaduke, with an attempt at heartiness.  “You must come, and the captain, too.  For I hear, with regret, that you are not to be long with us.”

I caught another significant look from Comyn from between the window curtains.  But I accepted for myself, and conditionally for John Paul.  Mr. Manners rose to take his leave.

“Dorothy will be glad to see you,” he said.  “I often think, Richard, that she tires of these generals and King’s ministers, and longs for a romp at Wilmot House again.  Alas,” he sighed, offering us a pinch of snuff (which he said was the famous Number 37), “alas, she has had a deal too much of attention, with his Grace of Chartersea and a dozen others would to marry her.  I fear she will go soon,” and he sighed again.  “Upon my soul I cannot make her out.  I’ll lay something handsome, my Lord, that the madcap adventure with you after Richard sets the gossips going.  One day she is like a schoolgirl, and I blame myself for not taking her mother’s advice to send her to Mrs. Terry, at Campden House; and the next, egad, she is as difficult to approach as a crowned head.  Well, gentlemen, I give you good day, I have an appointment at White’s.  I am happy to see you have fallen in good hands, Richard.  My Lord, your most obedient!”

“He’ll lay something handsome!” said my Lord, when the door had closed behind him.

CHAPTER XXVIII

ARLINGTON STREET

The sun having come out, and John Paul not returning by two,—­being ogling, I supposed, the ladies in Hyde Park,—­I left him a message and betook myself with as great trepidation as ever to Dorothy’s house.  The door was opened by the identical footman who had so insolently offered me money, and I think he recognized me, for he backed away as he told me the ladies were not at home.  But I had not gone a dozen paces in my disappointment when I heard him running after me, asking if my honour were Mr. Richard Carvel.