[_Reading in a dazed sort of a way._] "Hotel des Princes, Meek Street, W. Dear Sir,--Unless you drop in and settle your arrears, I really cannot keep your room for you any longer. Yours obediently, Achille Blond. Cecil Farringdon, Esq." Good heavens! You have a room at the Hotel das Princes!
But my friends do. When I was at Brighton I was in with the best set--hope I always shall be. I left Brighton--nice hole I was in. You see, Guv, I didn't want my friends to make free with your house.
So I took a room at the Hotel des Princes--when I want to put a man up he goes there. You see, Guv, it's _you_ I've been considering more than myself.
A fellow is just as old as he feels. I feel no end of a man. Hush, they're coming down! I'm off to tell Wyke about the rickety four-wheeler.
Cis, Cis! Your mother will discover I have been out.
Oh, I forgot, you're married, aren't you?
Yes it is. We'll pop in at the club on our way, and you can give me a bitters.
Good gracious, what a boy! Hotel des Princes, Meek Street! What shall I do? Tell his mother? Why, it would turn her hair grey. If I could only get a quiet word with this Mr. Achille Blond, I could put a stop to everything. That is my best course, not to lose a moment in rescuing the child from his boyish indiscretion. Yes, I must go with Cis to Meek Street.
_Enter AGATHA POSKET and CHARLOTTE, elegantly dressed._
If you'll excuse me, I'll go to my room. I've another bad headache coming on.
Good-night, ma. Good-night, Aunt Charlotte.
[_To herself._] I wish the cab would come.
[_AGATHA POSKET and CHARLOTTE look out of the window._
You've told a story--two, sir! You said you were going up to your room.
You said you had a bad headache coming on.
So I have, Guv. I always get a bad headache at the Hotel des Princes.
Ahem! My pet, the idea has struck me that, as you are going out, it would not be a bad notion for me to pop into my club.
I know, my darling. Many men look in at their clubs every night.
A nice example for Cis, truly! I particularly desire that you should remain at home to-night, Æneas.
[_To AGATHA POSKET._] Why not let him go to the club, Agatha?
If Colonel Lukyn is there we shan't find him in Cork Street!
[_Grinning behind his hand._] The cab is coming, ma'am.