"Very well, my lord; then I won't countermand the carriage." He turned to go. "Jones!" I shrieked. He looked back at me. His eyes, full of a trusting reverence, met mine. My resolution began oozing out at every pore. "Is--is--are _you_ going with the carriage?" I stammered, for want of something to say. "No, my lord," he answered wistfully. That settled it. I let him depart without another word. It was certainly a pleasant drive through the delightful scenery of the Isle, and I determined, since I had to pay the piper, to enjoy the dance. The Infant and Towers were hilarious to the point of vulgarity: I let myself go at the will of Jones. When we got back, we realised with a start that it was half-past six. The dressing-gong was sounding. Jones met me in the passage. "Dinner at seven, my lord, in your room." I made frantic motions to the Infant. "Tell him!" I breathed. "It's too late now," he whispered back. "To-morrow!" I telegraphed desperately to Towers. He shook his thick head helplessly. "Have you invited my friends to dinner?" I asked Jones bitingly. "No, my lord," he said simply. "I thought your lordship 'ad seen enough of them to-day." There was a suggestion of reproach in the apology. Jones was more careful of my dignity than I was. When I got to my room, I found, to my horror, my dress-clothes laid out on the bed--I had brought them on the off-chance of going to a local dance. Jones had opened my portmanteau. For a moment a cold chill traversed my spine, as I thought he must have seen the monogram on my linen, and discovered the imposture. Then I remembered with joy that it was an "E," which is the more formal initial of Ted, and would do for Everett. In my relief, I felt I must submit to the nuisance of dressing--in honour of Jones. While changing my trousers, a sudden curiosity took me. I peeped through the keyhole of my sitting-room, and saw Jones just arriving with another bottle of Heidsieck. I groaned. I knew I should have to drink it, to keep up the fiction Towers was going to palm off on Jones to-morrow. I felt like bolting on the spot, but I was in my Jaegers. Presently Jones sidled mysteriously towards my door and knelt down before it. It flashed upon me he wanted the keyhole I was occupying. I jumped up in alarm, and dressed with the decorum of a god with a worshipper's eye on him. I swallowed what Jones gave me, fuming. With the roast, a blessed thought came to soothe me. Thenceforward I chuckled continuously. I refused the _parfait aux frais_ and the savoury in my eagerness for the end of the meal. Revenge was sufficient sweets. "Haw, hum!" I murmured, caressing my moustache. "Bring me a Damtidam." I knew his little phial must be exhausted long since. I intended to give him a bottle. "Did your lordship say Damtidam?" "Damtidam!" I roared, while my heart beat voluptuous music. "You don't mean to say you don't keep it?"