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I had searched a copy of the
London Directory at the Station Hotel at Carlisle, and found that no
house in Green Street was registered as occupied by the tenant of
Rannoch; and, further, when I came to examine the list of guests at the
castle, I found that they were really persons unknown in society. They
were merely of that class of witty, well-dressed parasites who always
cling on to the wealthy and make believe that they are smart and of the
_grande monde_. Rannoch was an expensive place to keep up, with all that
big retinue of servants and gamekeepers, and with those nightly dinners
cooked by a French _chef_; yet Leithcourt seemed to possess a long
pocket and smiled upon those parasites, officers of doubtful commission
and younger sprigs of the pseudo-aristocracy who surrounded him, while
his wife, keen-eyed and of superb bearing, was punctilious concerning
all points of etiquette, and at the same time indefatigable that her
mixed set of guests should enjoy a really good time.
But I was not the only person who could not make them out.


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