Harold was uncertain whether to tell Drains that he had met the Duke, but Drains saved him the trouble. As he brought in Harold's coffee one morning, the man remarked:
I saw my old master yesterday, sir.
The Duke . . . Yes, I know. I've met him. He isn't a bit the sort you described.
Drains raised his eyebrows.
I described the Duke! he exclaimed. I told you that I had been in his employ, sir, but I scarcely permitted myself to go further.
You told me why you had left him, dared Harold.
Drains's face had regained its customary imperturbability.
I cannot, of course, contradict you, sir, but I assure you, sir, that you are labouring under some misapprehension. I could never have discussed the affairs of the Duke. He is a fine gentleman, sir.
Well, for once we agree, said Harold, and he began to wonder if he had misjudged Drains.
