His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. Tomorrow, I shall carry you before Justice Walters, who'll take your information; and I've no doubt but Thames Darrell will be fully committed. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. What do you mean by it, eh?’ ‘But I did not send it to you,’ Melusine rejoined instantly. “And what is it all about, Veronica?” he asked, with a deliberate note of irony, looking at her a little quizzically over his glasses. Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission.
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