Chapter 7“How are you, Alton? A trifle blue around the gills?” the Honourable Percival Lillington jested as the Marquis climbed down from his high perch phaeton to ascend the steps of the Foreign Office.
He spoke with the familiarity of an old friend, but the Marquis withered him with a glance through his quizzing-glass and passed on without speaking.
“What rot has got into Alton’s attic?” the Honourable Percival exclaimed in surprise. “Can it be that the last rumour is true and Bonaparte is arriving in a fleet of balloons? Or has some ‘Incomparable’ shut her bedroom door against him?”
His friend laughed.
“The first contingency is far more likely than the second. The only time an ‘Incomparable’ would shut her door where the Marquis is concerned would be when he is inside.”
Their laugh
