"If you meet him, you had perhaps better not inquire into my past history."
"I meant, does he know about--about your knowing me?"
"Bless them!" thought Mr Bunker; "one forgets they're not _always_ thinking about us!"
"My noble friend has no idea that I have been so fortunate," he replied.
Lady Alicia looked relieved. "Who is he?" she asked.
"A German nobleman of great wealth, long descent, and the most accommodating disposition. He is at present exploring England under my guidance, and I flatter myself that he has already seen and done a number of things that are not on most programmes."
Lady Alicia was silent for a minute. Then she said with a little hesitation, "Didn't you get a letter from me?"
"A letter? No," he replied, in some surprise.
"I wrote twice--because you asked me to, and I thought--I wondered if you were safe."
"And what was that?" he asked, still evidently puzzled.
"You said care of the Archbishop of York would find you."
"By Jove!" he said, as if lost in speculation, "I must find out what the matter was. I can't imagine why they haven't been forwarded."
Lady Alicia appeared a little dissatisfied.
"Was that a _real_ address?" she asked, suddenly.
"Perfectly," he replied; "as real as Pentonville Jail or the House of Commons." ("And as likely to find me," he added to himself.)
Lady Alicia seemed to hesitate whether to pursue the subject further, but in the middle of her debate Mr Bunker asked, "By the way, has Lady Grillyer any recollection of having seen me before?"
"Yes, I think it would be better; don't you?"
"It will save our imaginations certainly."
Lady Alicia looked at him as though she expected something more; but as nothing came, she said, "I think it's time I went back."
"For the present then _au revoir_, my dear Alicia. I beg your pardon, Lady Alicia; it was that rascal Beveridge who made the slip. It now remains to make your formal acquaintance."
"The deuce is in these people beginning with B!" he laughed. "They seem to do things without trying."
He pressed her hand, raised his hat, and started back to the town. She, on her part, lingered to let him get a clear start of her, and her blue eyes looked as though a breeze had blown across and ruffled them.
Mr Bunker had reached the esplanade, and was sauntering easily back towards the hotel, looking at the people and smiling now and then to himself, when he observed with considerable astonishment two familiar figures strolling towards him. They were none other than the Baron and the Countess, engaged in animated conversation, and apparently on the very best terms with each other. At the sight of him the Baron beamed joyfully.