This clumsy German ex-diplomat amused him immensely.

Many people amuse us who are themselves amused in their sleeve.
"And--er--the Sydney Bamboroughs," said the Frenchman, as if the name had almost left his memory.
Karl Steinmetz lazily stretched out his arm and took up the _Morning Post_.

He unfolded the sheet slowly, and having found what he sought, he read aloud: "'His Excellency the Roumanian Ambassador gave a select dinner-party at 4 Craven Gardens, yesterday.

Among the guests were the Baron de Chauxville, Feneer Pasha, Lord and Lady Standover, Mrs.Sydney Bamborough, and others.'" Steinmetz threw the paper down and leant back in his chair.
"So, my dear friend," he said, "it is probable that you know more about the Sydney Bamboroughs than I do." If Claude de Chauxville was disconcerted he certainly did not show it.
His was a face eminently calculated to conceal whatever thought or feeling might be passing through his mind.

Of an even white complexion--verging on pastiness--he was handsome in a certain statuesque way.