This was the young man's cue to wince. But hotel clerks are notoriously poor wincers.
"It is customary—"he began with perfect poise.
"I know," said Mr. Minot. "But then, I'm a sort of a friend of his lordship."
"A sort of a friend?" How well he lifted his eyebrows!
"Something like that. I believe I'm to be best man at his wedding."
Ah, yes; that splendid young man knew when to be affable. Affability swamped him now.
"Boy!" he cried. "Take this gentleman's card to Lord Harrowby."
A bell-boy in a Zenda uniform accepted the card, laid it upon a silver tray, glued it down with a large New York thumb, and strayed off down gilded corridors shouting, "Lord Harrowby."
Whereat all the pretty little débutantes who happened to be decorating the scene at the moment felt their pampered hearts go pit-a-pat and, closing their eyes, saw visions and dreamed dreams.
Lord Harrowby was at luncheon, and sent
