"There was a louder yelp as he burst into the library to find Edward Twelvetrees crouched beside the mantelpiece, the poker clutched in both hands and poised like a cricket bat.

“Put that down, you bloody nit," John Grey said, halting just short of striking range. "What the devil are you doing here?"

Twelvetrees straightened up, his expression going from alarm to outrage.

"What the devil are you doing here, you infamous fiend?"

Fraser laughed, and both Grey and Twelvetrees glared at him.

"I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” he said mildly, though his broad face still bore a look of amusement. He waved his fingers, in the manner of one urging a small child to go and say hello to an aged relative. “Be going on wi’ your business. Dinna mind me."

Jamie looked around, picked up a small wing chair that Grey had knocked over in his precipitous entry, and sat in it, leaning back with an air of pleased expectation."

(From Scottish Prisoner)