"'Cos I kicked 'im, I did."
"You—kicked Sir Mortimer Carnaby's friend!" exclaimed the Viscount.
"What in heaven's name did you do that for?"
"'Cos you told me to, m'lud, you did."
"I told you to kick—"
"Yes, m'lud, you did. You sez to me, last week—arter I done up that butcher's boy—you sez to me, 'don't fight 'cept you can't 'elp it,' you sez; 'but allus pertect the ladies,' you sez, 'an if so be as 'e's too big to reach wi' your fists—why, use your boots,' you sez, an' so I did, m'lud."
"So you were protecting a lady, were you, Imp?"
"Miss Clemency, mam; yes, m'lud. She's been good ter me, Miss Clemency, mam 'as—an' so when I seen 'im strugglin' an' a-tryin' to kiss 'er—when I 'eered 'er cry out—I came in froo de winder, an' I kicked 'im, I did, an' then—"
"Imp," said the Viscount gravely, "you are forgetting your aitches! And so Sir Mortimer's friend kissed her, did he? Mind your aitches now!"
"Yes, m' lud; an' when Hi seen the tears hin her eyes—"
"Now you are mixing them, Imp!—tears in her eyes. Well?"
"Why then I kicked him, m' lud, an' he turned round an' give me this 'ere."
"And what was Sir Mortimer's friend like?"
"A tall—werry sleepy gentleman, wot smiled, m' lud."
"Ha!" exclaimed the Viscount, starting; "and with a scar upon one cheek?"
"Yes, m'lud."
His Lordship frowned. "That would be Chichester," said he thoughtfully. "Now I wonder what the devil should bring that fellow so far from London?"
"Well, m' lud," suggested Milo, shaking his golden curls, "I kind of 'specks there's a woman at the bottom of it. There mostly generally is."
"Hum!" said the Viscount.
"'Sides, m' lud, I 'eard 'im talkin' 'bout a lady to S' Mortimer!"
"Did they mention her name?"
"The sleepy one 'e did, m' lud. Jist as S' Mortimer climbed into the chaise—'Here's wishing you luck wi' the lovely Meredyth,' 'e sez."
"Meredith!" exclaimed the Viscount.
"Meredith, m' lud; 'the lovely Meredith,' 'e sez, an' then, as he stood watchin' the chaise drive away, 'may the best man win,' sez 'e to himself, 'an' that's me,' sez'e."
"Boy," said the Viscount, "have the horses put to—at once."
"Werry good, m' lud," and, touching his small hat, Milo of Crotona turned and set off as fast as his small legs would carry him.
"Gad!" exclaimed his Lordship, "this is more than I bargained for. I must be off."
"Indeed!" said Barnabas, who for the last minute or so had been watching a man who was strolling idly up the lane, a tall, languid gentleman in a jaunty hat. "You seem all at once in a mighty hurry to get to London."
"London!" repeated the Viscount, staring blankly. "London? Oh, why yes, to be sure, I was going to London; but—hum—fact of the matter is, I've changed my mind about it, my dear Bev; I'm going—back. I'm following Carnaby."
"Ah!" said Barnabas, still intent upon the man in the lane,
"Carnaby again."
"Oh, damn the fellow!" exclaimed the Viscount.
"But—he is your friend."
"Hum!" said the Viscount; "but Carnaby is always—Carnaby, and she—"
"Meaning the Lady Cleone," said Barnabas.
"Is a woman—"
"'The lovely Meredith'!" nodded Barnabas.
"Exactly!" said the Viscount, frowning; "and Carnaby is the devil with women."
"But not this woman," answered Barnabas, frowning a little also.
"My dear fellow, men like Carnaby attract all women—"
