The porter checked a laugh at the notion. "Sir Turtle lives at Brixton, sir. Leastways, it's between Brixton and Clapham. Rosemary Lodge, sir--a rare beautiful place it is." Brixton now! To Lord Acorn's dismayed mind it seemed that he might almost as well start for the moon; and for a few seconds he hesitated. But--having undertaken this adventurous expedition--adventurous in more ways than one--he must carry it through for his unhappy daughter's sake. "Do you fancy Sir Turtle is likely to be at home now, at--ah, Rosemary House--if I go there, my man?" "Most likely, sir. He is mostly at home earlier than this. Sir Turtle is very fond of his garden and greenhouses, you see, and makes haste home to 'em. He's got no wife nor child. But it's Rosemary Lodge, sir; not Rosemary House." "Ah, yes, thank you--Rosemary Lodge," repeated his lordship, dropping a shilling into the porter's hand, and hailing the first cab he met. "Rosemary Lodge, Brixton," said he to the driver. "Yes, sir. What part of Brixton?" "Don't know at all," said his lordship. "Never was at Brixton in my life." "Brixton's a straggling sort of place, you see, sir. I might be driving you about----" "It is between Brixton and Clapham," interrupted the earl. "Rosemary Lodge: Sir Turtle Kite's." "Oh, come, the name's something," said the man, as he drove off. Rosemary Lodge was not difficult to find, once the locality was reached. It was a large and very pretty white villa, painted glass borders surrounding its windows, and it stood in the midst of a spacious lawn dotted with beds of bright flowers. Walking round the gravel-drive, Lord Acorn rang at the door, which was speedily opened by a man in chocolate-coloured livery. "Is Sir Turtle Kite at home?" "Yes, sir; but he is at dinner; just sat down to it." "At dinner!" echoed Lord Acorn. "I want to see him very particularly." "Well, sir, Sir Turtle does not much like to be disturbed at his dinner," hesitated the man. "Perhaps you could wait?--or call again?" "Look here," said Lord Acorn, hunting in his pocket for his card-case, a bright idea seizing him, "you shall ask Sir Turtle to allow me to go into the dining-room to him, and I'll say the few words I have to say while he dines. I suppose he is alone! I won't disturb him from it. Deuce take it!" muttered his lordship, finding he had not his card-case with him. "You must take in my name: Lord Acorn." This colloquy took place in the hall. At that moment another serving-man came out of the dining-room--his master wanted to know what the stir was. Lord Acorn caught a glimpse of a well-spread table, and of a round, good-humoured face above it. "Announce me," he rapidly said: and the servant did so. "Lord Acorn."