"We will give you a lift--without prejudice," replied Lady Ormstork, with the laudable object of drawing him off from further exercise of his powers of intimidation upon whichever might be the prospective bridegroom. The duke bowed himself into a right angle. "Your illustrious kindness transcends my poor deserts. I am overwhelmed by this distinguished mark of your favour." He straightened himself, pivoted on his heels till he faced the three men, and bowed to them, this time stopping at an angle of 45°. "Your excellencies, I shall further do myself the supreme honour of returning to pursue my enquiry as to which of you I may have the inestimable privilege of addressing without fear of contradiction as milord Quorn." He pivoted again till he faced the door, took a phenomenally long stride to it, recovered himself, flung it open, and with a ceremonial which had quite a mediæval flavour about it, and, indeed, had been probably handed down from one generation of the amiable house of Salolja to another, conducted the ladies to the hall, leaving the three men inert with gloomy anticipations. CHAPTER XXXVII So paralysed were they that it was not till the crunching of the carriage wheels on the gravel roused them from their lugubrious stupor that they found tongue to discuss their situation. "Nice let-in for my money and trouble," said Gage writhing in the Nessus shirt of that fatal peerage. "At any rate you can't blame me for this pleasing little episode," returned Peckover dispiritedly. "I like your swearing you are not the rightful Quorn," said Gage huffily. "I'm not, whoever else may be," maintained his late confederate with a glance at the real man, who met it by an irresponsive glare. "I only took it for as long as I fancied," urged Gage. "A bargain's a bargain," observed Peckover. "You can't take on a title and give it up as though it were a furnished house." "Can't I?" his friend rejoined vehemently. "Anyhow, I mean to. I've had too much of it. I didn't suppose it included Spanish bullies and Australian bush-rangers." "You can do as you like about giving it up," retorted Peckover. "Only it don't come back to me I promise you. I didn't sell it on appro." Quorn, who had been ruminating on the events just past in glowering silence, looked up quickly. "Sell?" he demanded suspiciously. "What do you mean by sell?" "Mind your own business," returned Gage snappishly. "That's the worst of men like you. You do a fellow a service and then there's no end to the advantage you take of it. Thrusting yourself in and talking absurd rot to the girl. If you don't keep in your place I shall have to put you there." "That's what I'm going to trouble you to do before you're much older," retorted Quorn darkly. Gage looked puzzled. "What was your reason," he demanded, turning to Peckover, "for sticking out that he was Lord Quorn? Were you pulling that infernal little fire-brand's short leg, or did you mean it?"