They make a point of
deliberately trying to deceive strangers as to the goldenness of
their hearts by adopting a forbidding manner. And "Good morning!"
Not "Good morning, sir!" Sturdy independence, you observe, as befits
a free man. George closed the door carefully. He glanced into the
kitchen. Mrs. Platt was not there. All was well.
"You have brought a note from Lady Maud?"
The honest fellow's rather dour expression seemed to grow a shade
bleaker.
"If you are alluding to Lady Maud Marsh, my daughter," he replied
frostily, "I have not!"
For the past few days George had been no stranger to shocks, and
had indeed come almost to regard them as part of the normal
everyday life; but this latest one had a stumbling effect.
"I beg your pardon?" he said.
"So you ought to," replied the earl.
George swallowed once or twice to relieve a curious dryness of the
mouth.
"Are you Lord Marshmoreton?"
"I am."
"Good Lord!"
"You seem surprised."
"It's nothing!" muttered George. "At least, you--I mean to say . . .
It's only that there's a curious resemblance between you and one
of your gardeners at the castle.
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