“And hence your idea of a prize. I think that had you decided to award it to the man who recognised another man’s wife you would have been more successful.”
“We should have been bankrupt by the end of a week, my lord; besides, this was a feature of the old Society, and we want to launch it on a totally novel basis. Originality must be our watchword.”
Lord Somerville, having been struck by the keen judgment and foresight of the little buffoon, had willingly promised him his support in every way. He would send round to all his friends and spread the idea amongst the Upper Ten, who would be sure to lead the movement and give a salutary example to the middle classes. Arrived at the corner of Park Lane, Lionel had wistfully inquired of Danford whether he knew Gwendolen Towerbridge? Dick was sorry, but he could not help Lord Somerville in that line. Engaged people were quite out of his department, Lord Somerville would have to solve that problem for himself; to which Lionel had shrugged his shoulders: just as well guess whose face was behind a thick mask.
That evening Lionel sat up late in his library planning in his mind the organisation of the new Society of social guides. He frequently interrupted his work to look up at his father’s portrait; his type was not unlike hundreds of men he had seen during the day, and he wondered how he could recognise his own father were he alive? Would not the latter have been slightly bewildered in this Babel? Would not his pedantic theories on good breeding receive a shock were he now to step out of his frame and take a stroll through the streets of London?
Towards two o’clock in the morning the Earl had memorised the whole synopsis of the new Society, to be launched under the gracious patronage of the Earl of A.B.C. and of Her Grace the Duchess of X.Y.Z., and he retired to his pallet of plaited rushes with a sigh of contentment at the prospect of a new spectacular show, and with a sense of relief at the thought that Gwendolen was lost to him, more irrevocably lost in this general unmasking than if a vessel had foundered on a rock, leaving her on a desert island.