“So?” gasped the Baron. “You assure me truly?”
Muttering (the historian sincerely hopes) a petition for forgiveness, Bunker firmly answered--
The train had stopped, and as they were the only first-class passengers on board, a peculiarly magnificent footman already had his hand upon the door. Before turning the handle, he touched his hat.
“Lord Tulliwuddle?” he respectfully inquired.
“Ja--zat is, yes, I am,” replied the Baron.
From the platform down to the pier was only some fifty yards, and before them the travellers perceived an exceedingly smart steam-launch, and a stout middle-aged gentleman, in a blue serge suit and yachting cap, advancing from it to greet them. They had only time to observe that he had a sanguine complexion, iron-gray whiskers, and a wide-open eye, before he raised the cap and, in a decidedly North British accent, thus addressed them--
“My lord--ahem!--your lordship, I should say--I presume I've the pleasure of seeing Lord Tulliwuddle?”
The Count gently pushed his more distinguished friend in front. With an embarrassment equal to their host's, his lordship bowed and gave his hand.
“I am ze Tollyvoddle--vary pleased--Mistair Gosh, I soppose?”
“Gallosh, my lord. Very honored to welcome you.”
In the round eyes of Mr. Gallosh, Count Bunker perceived an unmistakable stare of astonishment at the sound of his lordship's accented voice. The Baron, on his part, was evidently still suffering from his attack of stage fright; but again the Count's gifts smoothed the creases from the situation.
“You have not introduced me to our host, Tulliwuddle,” he said, with a gay, infectious confidence.
“Ah, so! Zis is my friend Count Bunker--gom all ze vay from Austria,” responded the Baron, with no glimmer of his customary aplomb.
Making a mental resolution to warn his ally never to say one word more about his fictitious past than was wrung by cross-examination, the distinguished-looking Austrian shook his host's hand warmly.
“From Austria via London,” he explained in his pleasantest manner. “I object altogether to be considered a foreigner, Mr. Gallosh; and, in fact, I often tell Tulliwuddle that people will think me more English than himself. The German fashions so much in vogue at Court are transforming the very speech of your nobility. Don't you sometimes notice it?”