He made his apologies with his hand pressed upon
his forehead, and his voice expressive of the languor and discouragement
of a suffering man.
"The beastly English climate is telling on my nerves," said Mr.
Sweetsir--"the horrid weight of the atmosphere, after the exhilarating
air of Paris; the intolerable dirt and dullness of London, you know. I
was in bed, my dear aunt, when I received your letter. You may imagine
the completely demoralised?? state I was in, when I tell you of the
effect which the news of the robbery produced on me. I fell back on my
pillow, as if I had been shot. Your Ladyship should really be a
little more careful in communicating these disagreeable surprises to a
sensitively-organised man. Never mind--my valet is a perfect treasure;
he brought me some drops of ether on a lump of sugar. I said, 'Alfred'
(his name is Alfred), 'put me into my clothes!' Alfred put me in. I
assure you it reminded me of my young days, when I was put into my first
pair of trousers. Has Alfred forgotten anything? Have I got my braces
on? Have I come out in my shirt-sleeves? Well, dear aunt;--well, Mr.
Troy!--what can I say? What can I do?"
Lady Lydiard, entirely without sympathy for nervous suffering, nodded to
the lawyer. "You tell him," she said.
"I believe I speak for her Ladyship," Mr. Troy began, "when I say that
we should like to hear, in the first place, how the whole case strikes
you, Mr. Sweetsir?"
"Tell it me all over again," said Felix.
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