"You have, sir."

Mr Bunker bent towards him and whispered something in his ear.

"From Scotland Yard?" exclaimed his lordship.

"Hush!" said Mr Bunker, glancing cautiously round the room, and then he added, with an air of impressive gravity, "You have a bathroom on the third floor, I believe?"

"I have," replied his host in great surprise.

"Has it a bell?"

"No, I believe not."

"Ah, I thought so. If you will favour me by coming up-stairs for a minute, my Lord, you will avoid a serious private scandal. Say nothing about it at present to any one."

In blank astonishment and some alarm Lord Tulliwuddle went up with him to the third floor, where the house was still and the sounds of revelry reached faintly.

"What does this mean, sir?" he asked.

"If I am right in my conjectures you will need no explanation from me, my Lord."

His lordship opened a door, and turning on an electric light, revealed a small and ordinary-looking bathroom.

"Ha, no bell-excellent!" said Mr Bunker.

"What are you doing with the key?" exclaimed his host.

"Good night, my Lord. I shall tell them to send up breakfast at nine,"

said Mr Bunker, and stepping quickly out, he shut and locked the door.

A minute later he was back in the ballroom looking anxiously for the Baron, but that n.o.bleman was nowhere to be seen.

"The devil!" he said to himself. "Can they have tackled him too?"

But as he ran downstairs a gust of cheerful laughter set his mind at ease.

"Ha, ha, ha! Vere is old Bonker? He also vill shoot vid me!"

"Here I am, my dear Baron," he exclaimed gaily, as he tracked the voice into the supper-room.

"Ach, mine dear Bonker!" cried the Baron, folding him in his muscular embrace, "I haf here met friends, ve are merry! Ve drink to Bavaria, to England, to everyzing!"

The "friends" consisted of two highly amused young men and two half-scandalised, half-hysterical ladies, into the midst of whose supper-table the Baron had projected himself with infectious hilarity.

They all looked up with great curiosity at Mr Bunker, but that gentleman was not in the least put about. He bowed politely to the table generally, and took his friend by the arm.

"It is time we were going, Baron, I'm afraid," he said.

"Vat for? Ah, not yet, Bonker, not yet. I am enjoying myself down to ze floor. I most dance again, Bonker, jost vunce more," pleaded the Baron.

"My dear Baron, the n.o.blemen of highest rank must always leave first, and people are talking of going now. Come along, old man."

"Ha, is zat so?" said the Baron. "Zen vill I go. Good night!" he cried, waving his hand to the room generally. "Ven you gom to Bavaria you most all shoot vid me. Bravo, my goot Bonker! Ha! ha!"

As they turned away from the table, one of the young men, who had been looking very hard at Mr Bunker, rose and touched his sleeve.

"I say, aren't you--?" he began.

"Possibly I am," interrupted Mr Bunker, "only I haven't the slightest recollection of the fact."

An astonished lady was indicated by Mr Bunker as the hostess, and to her the Baron bade an affectionate adieu. He handed a sovereign to the footman, embraced the butler, and as they sped eastwards in their hansom, a rousing chorus from the two friends awoke the echoes of Piccadilly.

"Bravo, Bonker! Himmel, I haf enjoyed myself!" sighed the exhausted Baron.

CHAPTER VII.

The Baron and Mr Bunker discussed a twelve o'clock breakfast with the relish of men who had done a good night's work. The Baron was full of his exploits. "Ze lofly Lady Hilton" and his new "friends" seemed to have made a vivid impression.

"Zey vill be in ze Park to-day, of course?" he suggested.

"Possibly," replied Mr Bunker, without any great enthusiasm.

"But surely."

"After a dance it is rather unlikely."

"Ze Lady Hilton did say she vent to ze Park."

"To-day, Baron?"

"I do not remember to-day. I did dance so hard I was not perhaps distinct.

But I shall go and see."

As Mr Bunker's attempts to throw cold water on this scheme proved quite futile, he made a graceful virtue of necessity, dressed himself with care, and set out in the afternoon for the Park. They had only walked as far as Piccadilly Circus when in the crowd at the corner his eye fell upon a familiar figure. It was the burly, red-faced man.

"The devil! Moggridge again!" he muttered.

For a moment he thought they were going to pa.s.s un.o.bserved: then the man turned his head their way, and Mr Bunker saw him start. He never looked over his shoulder, but after walking a little farther he called the Baron's attention to a shop window, and they stopped to look at it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Moggridge about twenty yards behind them stopping too. He was glancing towards them very doubtfully. Evidently his mind was not yet made up, and at once Mr Bunker's fertile brain began to revolve plans.

A little farther on they paused before another window, and exactly the same thing happened. Then Mr Bunker made up his mind. He looked carefully at the cabs, and at last observed a smart-looking young man driving a fresh likely horse at a walking pace beside the pavement.

He caught the driver's eye and raised his stick, and turning suddenly to the Baron with a gesture of annoyance, exclaimed, "Forgive my rudeness, Baron, I'm afraid I must leave you. I had clean forgotten an important engagement in the city for this afternoon."

"Appointment in ze city?" said the Baron in considerable surprise. "I did not know you had friends in ze city."