We were all at lunch, in the room with the new French windows that open into the verandah, and the Count (who devours pastry as I have never yet seen it devoured by any human beings but girls at boarding-schools) had just amused us by asking gravely for his fourth tart⁠—when the servant entered to announce the visitor.

“ Mr. Merriman has just come, Sir Percival, and wishes to see you immediately.”

Sir Percival started, and looked at the man with an expression of angry alarm.

“ Mr. Merriman!” he repeated, as if he thought his own ears must have deceived him.

“Yes, Sir Percival⁠— Mr. Merriman, from London.”