But it won't be done by any means
on the same scale that--" he paused abruptly, and the two
men tacitly completed his sentence in the glance they exchanged.
The Marquis of Chaldon rose, and took up his hat and stick.
"If you will post it to me--in a registered letter--my
town house--please," he remarked, with a charmingly delicate
hesitation over the phrases. Then he put out his hand: "I
need not say how fully I appreciate your great kindness
to my old friend Fromentin. It was a noble action--one
I shall always reflect upon with admiration."
"I hope you won't mention it, though," said Thorpe,
as they shook hands; "either that or--or anything else."
"I shall preserve the most guarded--the most diplomatic secrecy,"
his Lordship assured him, as they walked toward the door.
Thorpe opened this door, and stepped aside, with a half bow,
to facilitate the exit of the Marquis, who bent gracious
acknowledgment of the courtesy. Then, with an abrupt
start of surprise, the two men straightened themselves.
Directly in front of them, leaning lightly against the
brass-rail which guarded the entrance to the Board Room,
stood Lord Plowden.
A certain sense of confusion, unwelcome but inevitable,
visibly enveloped this chance meeting. The Marquis blinked
very hard as he exchanged a fleeting hand-shake with the
younger nobleman, and murmured some indistinguishable
commonplaces.
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