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 having swept up the sawdust, none of the household had yet discovered it.

“No one has called, sir, except one or two of the usuals to the tradesmen’s entrance, and they were kept outside,” the butler remarked as he relieved the two gentlemen of their hats and canes.

At Forsyth’s request they were shown into the smoking-room—a cozy den, with only one window overlooking Piccadilly, to which the General immediately walked. His gaze roved over the crowded thoroughfare, comprehending pedestrians and passing vehicles in one swift scrutiny, and, apparently satisfied, he turned away just as Sybil entered, looking as fresh and sprightly as though she had slept the clock round. The General greeted her in the curt manermanner [sic] he affected to all women impartially, but an extra pressure of her hand may have had reference to her vigilant gallantry.

“His Grace is sulking,” she said, with a smile. “At least, he refuses to leave his room until he has seen you, General Sadgrove. I tapped at his door and told him you were here, but he said that if you want to see him you had better go upstairs. Very rude of him, isn’t it?”