It was Poltermore and Poltermore, the Colonel here, the Colonel there until the chase grew so hot that Mr.
Beamish could no longer listen to young Mr.Camwell's fatiguing drone upon his one theme of the double-dealing of Chloe's betrothed.

He became of her way of thinking, and treated the young gentleman almost as coldly as she.

In time he was ready to guess of his own acuteness that the 'strange cavalier' could have been no other than Colonel Poltermore.
When Caseldy hinted it, Mr.Beamish said, 'I have marked him.' He added, in highly self-satisfied style, 'With all your foreign training, my friend, you will learn that we English are not so far behind you in the art of unravelling an intrigue in the dark.' To which Caseldy replied, that the Continental world had little to teach Mr.Beamish.
Poor Colonel Poltermore, as he came to be called, was clearly a victim of the sudden affability of Duchess Susan.

The transformation of a stiff military officer into a nimble Puck, a runner of errands and a sprightly attendant, could not pass without notice.

The first effect of her discriminating condescension on this unfortunate gentleman was to make him the champion of her claims to breeding.