His eyes roamed around the room, seeing Killem and Kerry alone remained on their feet, then his attention went to where his sister knelt by the unconscious shapes of Calamity and Big Win. “See to Lady Beryl, Wheatley,” he said as the valet came forward. “I’ll take my coat.” The hotel manager appeared, a mild little man who showed distress at the damage to his barroom, but even more so at the sight of his most distinguished guest standing with vest torn open, shirt ripped and face marked up some as a result of the fight. Spluttering his apologies, the manager came toward Lord Henry, saw Beryl and began to gobble incoherently. “Send for a doctor, my good chap,” Lord Henry interrupted. “And have one of your maids attend to my sister.” “Yes, sir, I mean your Lordship,” the manager answered. “I’ll have every one of those sluts jailed and run out of town for attacking——” “I’d wait until you hear what Lady Beryl wants first,” smiled Lord Henry, and looked to where Killem knelt at Calamity’s side.
