Early the next morning he was in Brook Street, having sent a note
to say he would call, and having named the hour. And yet when he
knocked at the door, he was told with the utmost indifference by a
London footman, that Miss Boncassen was not at home,--also that Mrs
Boncassen was not at home,--also that Mr Boncassen was not at home.
When he asked at what hour Miss Boncassen was expected home, the
man answered him, just as though he had been anyone else, that he
knew nothing about it. He turned away in disgust, and had himself
driven to the Beargarden. In his misery he had recourse to game-
pie and a pint of champagne for his lunch. 'Halloa, old fellow,
what is this I hear about you?' said Nidderdale, coming in, and
sitting opposite to him.
'I don't know what you have heard.'
'You are going to second the address. What made them pick you out
from the lot of us?'
'It is just what I am not going to do.'
'I saw it all in the papers.'
'I daresay;--and yet it isn't true. I shouldn't wonder if they ask
you.'
At this moment a waiter handed a large official letter to Lord
Nidderdable, saying that the messenger who had brought it was
waiting for an answer in the hall.
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