Muttering something under his breath, Welsh hung up his coat and hat, sat down, and then assuming an air of great impudence, remarked, "Fire away, Mr Mandell-Essington--Beveridge--Bunker, or whatever you call yourself."
Without paying the slightest attention to this piece of humour, Mr Bunker turned to the bewildered proprietor, and, to the intense disappointment of the audience, said, "You can leave us now, thank you; our talk is likely to be of a somewhat private nature." As their gallery withdrew, he drew up a chair for the Baron, and all four sat round the small table.
"Now," said Mr Bunker to Welsh, "you will perhaps be kind enough to give me a precise account of your doings since the middle of November."
"Sare," interposed the Baron in his stateliest manner, "I know not now who you may be, but I see you are no gentleman. Ven you are viz gentlemen--and noblemen--you vill please to speak respectfully."
The stare that Welsh attempted in reply was somewhat ineffective.
"Perhaps, Dr Twiddel, you can give the account I want?" said Mr Bunker.
The poor doctor looked at his friend, hesitated, and finally stammered out, "I--I don't see why."
Mr Bunker pulled a paper out of his pocket and showed it to him.
When the doctor saw the bill for Mr Beveridge's linen, the last of his courage ebbed away. He glanced helplessly at Welsh, but his ally was now leaning back in his chair with such an irritating assumption of indifference, and the prospective fee had so obviously vanished, that he was suddenly seized with the most virtuous resolutions.
"What do you want to know, sir?" he asked.
"In the first place, how did you come to have anything to do with me?"
Welsh, whose sharp wits instantly divined the weak point in the attack, cut in quickly, "Don't tell him if he doesn't know already!"
But Twiddel's relapse to virtue was complete. "I was asked to take charge of you while----" He hesitated.
"While I was unwell," smiled Mr Bunker. "Yes?"
"But I--I didn't like the idea, you see; and so--in fact--Welsh suggested that I should take him instead."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Mr Bunker, "I must say it was a devilish humorous idea."
At this Twiddel began to take heart again.
"I am very sorry, sir, for----" he began, when the Baron interrupted excitedly.