The three heads bent forward towards a common centre—the Baron agog with suppressed excitement, Tulliwuddle revived with curiosity and a gleam of hope, Essington impressive and cool.
“I take it,” he began, “that if Mr. Darius P. Maddison and his coveted daughter could see a little of Lord Tulliwuddle—meet him at lunch, talk to him afterwards, for instance—and carry away a favorable impression of the nobleman, there would not be much difficulty in subsequently arranging a marriage?”
“Oh, none,” said Tulliwuddle. “They'd be only too keen, IF they approved of me; but that's the rub, you know.”
“So far so good. Now it appears to me that our modest friend here somewhat underrates his own powers of fascination.”
“Ach, Tollyvoddle, you do indeed,” interjected the Baron.
“But since this idea is so firmly established in his mind that it may actually prevent him from displaying himself to the greatest advantage, and since he has been good enough to declare that he would regard with complete confidence my own chances of success were I in his place, I would propose—with all becoming diffidence—that I should interview the lady and her parent instead of him.”
“A vary vise idea, Bonker,” observed the Baron.
“What!” said Tulliwuddle. “Do you mean that you would go and crack me up, and that sort of thing?”
“No; I mean that I should enjoy a temporary loan of your name and of your residence, and assure them by a personal inspection that I have a sufficient assortment of virtues for their requirements.”
“Splendid!” shouted the Baron. “Tollyvoddle, accept zis generous offer before it is too late!”
“But,” gasped the diffident nobleman, “they would find out the next time they saw me.”
“If the business is properly arranged, that would only be when you came out of church with her. Look here—what fault have you to find with this scheme? I produce the desired impression, and either propose at once and am accepted——”
“H'm,” muttered Tulliwuddle doubtfully.
“Or I leave things in such good train that you can propose and get accepted afterwards by letter.”
“That's better,” said Tulliwuddle.
“Then, by a little exercise of our wits, you find an excuse for hurrying on the marriage—have it a private affair for family reasons, and so on. You will be prevented by one excuse or another from meeting the lady till the wedding-day. We shall choose a darkish church, you will have a plaster on your face—and the deed is done!”
“Not a fault can I find,” commented the Baron sagely. “Essington, I congratulate you.”
Between his complete confidence in Essington and the Baron's unqualified commendation, Lord Tulliwuddle was carried away by the project.
“I say, Essington, what a good fellow you are!” he cried. “You really think it will work?”
“What do you say, Baron?”
“It cannot fail, I do solemnly assure you. Be thankful you have soch a friend, Tollyvoddle!”
“You don't think anybody will suspect that you aren't really me?”
“Does any one up at Hechnahoul know you?”
“No.”
“And no one there knows me. They will never suspect for an instant.”
His lordship assumed a look that would have been serious, almost impressive, had he first removed his eye-glass. Evidently some weighty consideration had occurred to him.
“You are an awfully clever chap, Essington,” he said, “and deuced superior to most fellows, and—er—all that kind of thing. But—well—you don't mind my saying it?”
“My morals? My appearance? Say anything you like, my dear fellow.”
“It's only this, that noblesse oblige, and that kind of thing, you know.”
“I am afraid I don't quite follow.”
“Well, I mean that you aren't a nobleman, and do you think you could carry things off like a—ah—like a Tulliwuddle?”
Essington remained entirely serious.
“I shall have at my elbow an adviser whose knowledge of the highest society in Europe is, without exaggeration, unequalled. Your perfectly natural doubts will be laid at rest when I tell you that I hope to be accompanied by the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg.”
The Baron could no longer contain himself.
“Himmel! Hurray! My dear friend, I vill go mit you to hell!”
“That's very good of you,” said Essington, “but you mistake my present destination. I merely wish your company as far as the Castle of Hechnahoul.”
“I gom mit so moch pleasure zat I cannot eggspress! Tollyvoddle, be no longer afraid. I have helped to write a book on ze noble families of Germany—zat is to say, I have contributed my portrait and some anecdote. Our dear friend shall make no mistakes!”
By this guarantee Lord Tulliwuddle's last doubts were completely set at rest. His spirits rose as he perceived how happily this easy avenue would lead him out of all his troubles. He insisted on calling for wine and pledging success to the adventure with the most resolute and confident air, and nothing but a few details remained now to be settled. These were chiefly with regard to the precise limits up to which the duplicate Lord Tulliwuddle might advance his conquering arms.
“You won't formally propose, will you?” said the first edition of that peer.
“Certainly not, if you prefer to negotiate the surrender yourself,” the later impression assured him.
“And you mustn't—well—er——”
“I shall touch nothing.”
“A girl might get carried away by you,” said the original peer a trifle doubtfully.
“The Baron is the most scrupulous of men. He will be by my side almost continually. Baron, you will act as my judge, my censor, and my chaperon?”
“Tollyvoddle, I swear to you zat I shall use an eye like ze eagle. He shall be so careful—ach, I shall see to it! Myself, I am a Bayard mit ze ladies, and Bonker he shall not be less so!”
“Thanks, Baron, thanks awfully,” said his lordship. “Now my mind is quite at rest!”
In the vestibule of the restaurant they bade good-night to the confiding nobleman, and then turned to one another with an adventurer's smile.
“You are sure you can leave your diplomatic duties?” asked Essington.
“Zey vill be my diplomatic duties zat I go to do! Oh, I shall prepare a leetle story—do not fear me.”
The Baron chuckled, and then burst forth
“Never was zere a man like you. Oh, cunning Mistair Bonker! And you vill give me zomezing to do in ze adventure, eh?”
“I promise you that, Baron.”
As he gave this reassuring pledge, a peculiar smile stole over Mr. Bunker's face—a smile that seemed to suggest even happier possibilities than either of his distinguished friends contemplated.
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