not paid for it."
"One fool throwing away money is sufficient, I should think," said the earl. "We are dealing with an exceedingly devious man. In self-defence we must be devious as well. You've paid him for goods which he now refuses to deliver. In that case, someone must deliver them for him. Your ignorance of such simple economic logic is the reason you are on the brink of bankruptcy."
What Lord Streetham called "economic logic" sounded remarkably like theft to Mr. Atkins, but he held his tongue, endured a few more insults, and humbly took his leave.
He then took himself back to the inn, where he argued with his landlady for an hour over the reckoning. Finally, having paid his exorbitant shot, Mr. Atkins set out for Rossingley.
Rossingley, as Lord Berne pointed out to his father, was twenty-five miles away. The viscount could hardly visit Miss Desmond every day, claiming he was merely passing through the neighborhood. He could not stay with Jack at Rossing Hall because Lord Rossing hated company, and Lord Berne's company especially.
"There won't be any need to stop every day if you would but apply yourself," the earl retorted. "You might have had the manuscript by now if you had not been gadding about the countryside."
This was grossly unfair. Lord Berne had tried to apply himself to Miss Desmond, but his officious mama had constantly interrupted, sending him on one cork-brained mission after another. That same mama, he now told the earl, would go off in an apoplexy if he commenced regular visits to Lady Potterby's house. "As it is she's prodigious displeased with my neglect of Lady Jane," said Tony.
"Lady Jane will not elope with one of the grooms while you are gone — and so I shall assure your mother. Nor need you blame her for your ineptitude. You were not on errands last evening, yet you allowed Miss Desmond to spend the whole time flirting with Langdon."
Lord Berne frowned. That had been most disconcerting. Jack had been totally oblivious to all Miss Desmond's efforts to draw him out, yet she'd persisted. She'd even resorted to Latin epigrams, for heaven's sake!
Since no woman in his vast experience had ever favoured dull Jack Langdon over himself, Lord Berne had assumed Miss Desmond was simply attempting to spur a rivalry. Still, it was rather lowering to find he could not understand a word of the Latin which has roused Jack from his reveries. What business had the chit knowing the language in the first place?
"You know, Father, she is a very strange girl," said the viscount thoughtfully.
"Of course she's strange. Look who her father is. And her mother was an actress. What do you expect?"
The frown deepened. Desmond behaved very oddly, too. Most fathers of young women instinctively viewed Lord Berne with a wary eye, if not outright hostility. But Devil Desmond was not remotely hostile. He appeared to regard the viscount as an endlessly amusing joke. Whenever and whatever the Devil was about, Tony always felt as though the man were laughing at him, even when there wasn't the faintest flicker of a smile on his satanic face. Desmond would not, Tony reflected, be quite so amused when his memoirs disappeared.
"Well?" said Lord Streetham. "Do you mean to stand there sulking all day?"
"I can hardly run after them this very moment, sir. They've scarcely left. And it would look too particular if I did so tomorrow — unless they've left something behind?"
"No," was the curt reply. "I had their rooms sear — inspected shortly after they left."
"Doubtless Jack's forgotten something. He always does when his valet isn't by to look after him. I'll go to Rossingley in a day or two to return whatever it is, then call on Lady Potterby. I hope that's satisfactory?"
Lord Streetham was about to voice his opinion that it was not , but a moment's reflection stopped him, for he did not want to awaken any suspicions at Lady Potterby's. Oddly enough, there was some sense in Tony's arguments. Thus the earl answered
"One fool throwing away money is sufficient, I should think," said the earl. "We are dealing with an exceedingly devious man. In self-defence we must be devious as well. You've paid him for goods which he now refuses to deliver. In that case, someone must deliver them for him. Your ignorance of such simple economic logic is the reason you are on the brink of bankruptcy."
What Lord Streetham called "economic logic" sounded remarkably like theft to Mr. Atkins, but he held his tongue, endured a few more insults, and humbly took his leave.
He then took himself back to the inn, where he argued with his landlady for an hour over the reckoning. Finally, having paid his exorbitant shot, Mr. Atkins set out for Rossingley.
Rossingley, as Lord Berne pointed out to his father, was twenty-five miles away. The viscount could hardly visit Miss Desmond every day, claiming he was merely passing through the neighborhood. He could not stay with Jack at Rossing Hall because Lord Rossing hated company, and Lord Berne's company especially.
"There won't be any need to stop every day if you would but apply yourself," the earl retorted. "You might have had the manuscript by now if you had not been gadding about the countryside."
This was grossly unfair. Lord Berne had tried to apply himself to Miss Desmond, but his officious mama had constantly interrupted, sending him on one cork-brained mission after another. That same mama, he now told the earl, would go off in an apoplexy if he commenced regular visits to Lady Potterby's house. "As it is she's prodigious displeased with my neglect of Lady Jane," said Tony.
"Lady Jane will not elope with one of the grooms while you are gone — and so I shall assure your mother. Nor need you blame her for your ineptitude. You were not on errands last evening, yet you allowed Miss Desmond to spend the whole time flirting with Langdon."
Lord Berne frowned. That had been most disconcerting. Jack had been totally oblivious to all Miss Desmond's efforts to draw him out, yet she'd persisted. She'd even resorted to Latin epigrams, for heaven's sake!
Since no woman in his vast experience had ever favoured dull Jack Langdon over himself, Lord Berne had assumed Miss Desmond was simply attempting to spur a rivalry. Still, it was rather lowering to find he could not understand a word of the Latin which has roused Jack from his reveries. What business had the chit knowing the language in the first place?
"You know, Father, she is a very strange girl," said the viscount thoughtfully.
"Of course she's strange. Look who her father is. And her mother was an actress. What do you expect?"
The frown deepened. Desmond behaved very oddly, too. Most fathers of young women instinctively viewed Lord Berne with a wary eye, if not outright hostility. But Devil Desmond was not remotely hostile. He appeared to regard the viscount as an endlessly amusing joke. Whenever and whatever the Devil was about, Tony always felt as though the man were laughing at him, even when there wasn't the faintest flicker of a smile on his satanic face. Desmond would not, Tony reflected, be quite so amused when his memoirs disappeared.
"Well?" said Lord Streetham. "Do you mean to stand there sulking all day?"
"I can hardly run after them this very moment, sir. They've scarcely left. And it would look too particular if I did so tomorrow — unless they've left something behind?"
"No," was the curt reply. "I had their rooms sear — inspected shortly after they left."
"Doubtless Jack's forgotten something. He always does when his valet isn't by to look after him. I'll go to Rossingley in a day or two to return whatever it is, then call on Lady Potterby. I hope that's satisfactory?"
Lord Streetham was about to voice his opinion that it was not , but a moment's reflection stopped him, for he did not want to awaken any suspicions at Lady Potterby's. Oddly enough, there was some sense in Tony's arguments. Thus the earl answered
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