He had not heard the words Lord Claud had spoken to his guests on
their arrival--or, rather, he had not understood them, since they
were spoken in the French tongue.
"A friend of mine--a fine young fellow--a son of the forest--best
let alone, gentlemen, by those who value a sound skin," Lord Claud
had said, with a careless laugh.
His friends drew their own conclusions, and looked at Tom with
respect. Lord Claud knew exactly what they were thinking, and
laughed in his sleeve.
The valet was now perfuming the gloves, and giving just the jaunty
cock to his master's hat which best suited its shape.
"Now, gentlemen, I will bid you farewell for the present," said
Lord Claud. "I and my friend have business of our own. We may meet
again at the play ere long. Off with you each to his own favourite
tavern. For my part, I have other fish to fry today."
With that he swept them a fine bow, and the room cleared as if by
magic. It was one of this man's arts that he could rid himself of
the buzzing crowd by one look or gesture when he had the mind.
Valet and perruquier followed the retreating guests, and Lord Claud
drew a breath of relief.
"There, honest Tom; we are well rid of the chattering
magpies--screaming peacocks were the better word, or painted
popinjays.
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