Singular Behaviour of George Lomax
“ Mr. Lomax is here, my Lord—”
Lord Caterham started violently, for, absorbed in the intricacies of what not to do with the left wrist, he had not heard the butler approach over the soft turf.
He looked at Tredwell more in sorrow than in anger.
“I told you at breakfast, Tredwell, that I should be particularly engaged this morning.”
“Yes, my lord, but—”
“Go and tell Mr. Lomax that you have made a mistake, that I am out in the village, that I am laid up with the gout, or, if all else fails, that I am dead.”