"Sir," said the Viscount, with arms still folded, and sitting very upright on the bed, "were I to—call you out for that remark I should be only within my rights."
"My Lord," answered Barnabas, struggling with his shirt, "were you to call from now till doomsday—I shouldn't come."
"Then, sir," said the Viscount, cold and sneering, "a whip, perhaps,—or a cane might—"
But at this juncture, with a discreet knock, Peterby entered, and, having bowed to the scowling Viscount, proceeded to invest Barnabas with polished boots, waistcoat and scarlet coat, and to tie his voluminous cravat, all with that deftness, that swift and silent dexterity which helped to make him the marvel he was.
"Sir," said he, when Barnabas stood equipped from head to foot,
"Captain Slingsby's groom called to say that his master and the
Marquis of Jerningham are expecting you and Viscount Devenham to
breakfast at 'The Chequers'—a little higher up the street, sir.
Breakfast is ordered for eight o'clock."
"Thank you, Peterby," said Barnabas, and, bowing to the Viscount, followed him from the room and downstairs, out into the dewy freshness of the morning. To avoid the crowded street they went by a field-path behind the inn, a path which to-day was beset by, and wound between, booths and stalls and carts of all sorts. And here was gathered a motley crowd; bespangled tumblers and acrobats, dark-browed gipsy fortune-tellers and horse-coupers, thimble-riggers, showmen, itinerant musicians,—all those nomads who are to be found on every race-course, fair, and village green, when the world goes a-holiday making. Through all this bustling throng went our two young gentlemen, each remarkably stiff and upright as to back, and each excessively polite, yet walking, for the most part, in a dignified silence, until, having left the crowd behind, Barnabas paused suddenly in the shade of a deserted caravan, and turned to his companion.
"Dick!" said he smiling, and with hand outstretched.
"Sir?" said the Viscount, frowning and with eyes averted.
"My Lord," said Barnabas, bowing profoundly, "if I have offended your Lordship—I am sorry, but—"
"But, sir?"
"But your continued resentment for a fancied wrong is so much stronger than your avowed friendship for me, it would seem—that henceforth I—"
With a warning cry the Viscount sprang forward and, turning in a flash, Barnabas saw a heavy bludgeon in the air above him; saw the Viscount meet it with up-flung arm; heard the thud of the blow, a snarling curse; saw a figure dart away and vanish among the jungle of carts; saw the Viscount stagger against the caravan and lean there, his pale face convulsed with pain.
"Oh, Bev," he groaned, "my game arm, ye know. Hold me up, I—"
"Dick!" cried Barnabas, supporting the Viscount's writhing figure, "oh, Dick—it was meant for me! Are you much hurt?"
"No—nothing to—mention, my dear fellow. Comes a bit—sharp at first, y' know,—better in a minute or two."
"Dick—Dick, what can I do for you?"
"Nothing,—don't worry, Bev,—right as ninepence in a minute, y' know!" stammered the Viscount, trying to steady his twitching mouth.
"Come back," pleaded Barnabas, "come back and let me bathe it—have it attended to."
"Bathe it? Pooh!" said the Viscount, contriving to smile, "pain's quite gone, I assure you, my dear fellow. I shall be all right now, if—if you don't mind giving me your arm. Egad, Bev, some one seems devilish determined you shan't ride to-day!"
"But I shall—now, thanks to you, Dick!"
So they presently walked on together, but no longer unnaturally stiff as to back, for arm was locked in arm, and they forgot to be polite to each other.
Thus, in a while, they reached the "Chequers" inn, and were immediately shown into a comfortable sanded parlor where breakfast was preparing. And here behold Captain Slingsby lounging upon two chairs and very busily casting up his betting book, while the Marquis, by the aid of a small, cracked mirror, that chanced to hang against the wall, was frowning at his reflection and pulling at the folds of a most elaborate cravat with petulant fingers.
"Ah, Beverley—here's the dooce of a go!" he exclaimed, "that fool of a fellow of mine has actually sent me out to ride in a 'Trone d'Amour' cravat, and I've only just discovered it! The rascal knows I always take the field in an 'Osbaldistone' or 'Waterfall.' Now how the dooce can I be expected to ride in a thing like this! Most distressing, by Jove it is!"
"Eight thousand guineas!" said the Captain, yawning. "Steepish, b'gad, steepish! Eight thousand at ten to one—hum! Now, if Fortune should happen to smile on me to-day—by mistake, of course—still, if she does, I shall clear enough to win free of Gaunt's claws for good and all, b'gad!"
"Then I shall be devilish sorry to have to beat you, Sling, my boy!" drawled the Marquis, "yes, doocid sorry,—still—"
"Eh—what? Beat the 'Rascal,' Jerny? Not on your weedy 'Clinker,' b'gad—"
"Oh, but dooce take me, Sling, you'd never say the 'Rascal' was the better horse? Why, in the first place, there's too much daylight under him for your weight—besides—"
"But, my dear Jerny, you must admit that your 'Clinker' 's inclined to be just—a le-e-etle cow-hocked, come now, b'gad?"
"And then—as I've often remarked, my dear Sling, the 'Rascal' is too long in the pasterns, not to mention—"
"B'gad! give me a horse with good bellows,—round, d' ye see, well ribbed home—"
"My dear Sling, if you could manage to get your 'Rascal' four new legs, deeper shoulders, and, say, fuller haunches, he might possibly stand a chance. As it is, Sling, my boy, I commiserate you—but hallo! Devenham, what's wrong? You look a little off color."
"Well, for one thing, I want my breakfast," answered the Viscount.
"So do I!" cried the Captain, springing to his feet, "but, b'gad,
Dick, you do look a bit palish round the gills, y' know."
"Effect of hunger and a bad night, perhaps."
"Had a bad night, hey, Dick? Why, so did I," said the Captain, frowning. "Dreamed that the 'Rascal' fell and broke his neck, poor devil, and that I was running like the wind—jumping hedges and ditches with Jasper Gaunt close at my heels—oh, cursed unpleasant, y'know! What—is breakfast ready? Then let's sit down, b'gad, I'm famished!"
