"Sir," he began, "b'gad—!" here he paused to clear his throat loudly once or twice—"a devil incarnate! Fourteen minutes and a half, by my watch, and devil a spur! I'd have lent you my boots had there been time, I would, b'gad! As it is, if you've any desire to shake hands with a—ha!—with a fellow—hum!—in a dirty coat—why—here's mine, b'gad!"
"Captain the Honorable Marmaduke Slingsby—Mr. Beverley—The Marquis of Jerningham—Mr. Beverley. And now," said the Viscount, as Barnabas shook hands, "now tell 'em why you bought the horse, Bev."
"I was hoping, sirs," said Barnabas, rather diffidently, "that I might perhaps have the honor of riding in the Steeplechase on the fifteenth."
Hereupon the Captain struck his riding boot a resounding blow with his whip, and whistled; while the Marquis dangled his eyeglass by its riband, viewing it with eyes of mild surprise, and the Viscount glanced from one to the other with an enigmatical smile upon his lips.
"That would rest with Carnaby to decide, of course," said the
Captain at last.
"Why so?" inquired Barnabas.
"Because—well, because he—is Carnaby, I suppose," the Captain answered.
"Though Jerningham has the casting-vote," added the Viscount.
"True," said the Marquis, rearranging a fold of his cravat with a self-conscious air, "but, as Sling says—Carnaby is—Carnaby."
"Sirs," began Barnabas, very earnestly, "believe me I would spare no expense—"
"Expense, sir?" repeated the Marquis, lifting a languid eyebrow; "of course it is no question of 'expense'!" Here the Viscount looked uncomfortable all at once, and Barnabas grew suddenly hot.
"I mean," he stammered, "I mean that my being entered so late in the day—the fees might be made proportionately heavier—double them if need be—I should none the less be—be inestimably indebted to you; indeed I—I cannot tell you—" Now as Barnabas broke off, the Marquis smiled and reached out his hand—a languid-seeming hand, slim and delicate, yet by no means languid of grip.
"My dear Beverley," said he, "I like your earnestness. A race—especially this one—is a doocid serious thing; for some of us, perhaps, even more serious than we bargain for. It's going to be a punishing race from start to finish, a test of endurance for horse and man, over the worst imaginable country. It originated in a match between Devenham on his 'Moonraker' and myself on 'Clinker,' but Sling here was hot to match his 'Rascal,' and Carnaby fancied his 'Clasher,' and begad! applications came so fast that we had a field in no time."
"Good fellows and sportsmen all!" nodded the Captain. "Gentlemen riders—no tag-rag, gamest of the game, sir."
"Now, as to yourself, my dear Beverley," continued the Marquis authoritatively, "you 're doocid late, y' know; but then—"
"He can ride," said the Viscount.
"And he's game," nodded the Captain.
"And, therefore," added the Marquis, "we'll see what can be done about it."
"And b'gad, here's wishing you luck!" said the Captain.
At this moment Peterby entered the yard, deep in converse with a slim, gentleman-like person, whose noble cravat immediately attracted the attention of the Marquis.
"By the way," pursued the Captain, "we three are dining together at my club; may I have a cover laid for you, Mr. Beverley?"
"Sir," answered Barnabas, "I thank you, but, owing to—circumstances" —here he cast a downward glance at his neckerchief—"I am unable to accept. But, perhaps, you will, all three of you, favor me to dinner at my house—say, in three days' time?"
The invitation was no sooner given than accepted.
"But," said the Viscount, "I didn't know that you had a place here in town, Bev. Where is it?"
"Why, indeed, now you come to mention it, I haven't the least idea; but, perhaps, my man can tell me."
"Eh—what?" exclaimed the Captain. "Oh, b'gad, he's smoking us!"
"Peterby!"
"Sir?" and having saluted the company, Peterby stood at respectful attention.
"I shall be giving a small dinner in three days' time."
"Certainly, sir."
"At my house, Peterby,—consequently I desire to know its location.
Where do I live now, Peterby?"
"Number five, St. James's Square, sir."
"Thank you, Peterby."
"An invaluable fellow, that of yours," laughed the Marquis, as
Peterby bowed and turned away.
"Indeed, I begin to think he is, my Lord," answered Barnabas, "and I shall expect you all, at six o'clock, on Friday next." So, having shaken hands again, Captain Slingsby took the arm of the Marquis, and limped off.
Now, when they were alone, the Viscount gazed at Barnabas, chin in hand, and with twinkling eyes.
"My dear Bev," said he, "you can hang me if I know what to make of you. Egad, you're the most incomprehensible fellow alive; you are, upon my soul! If I may ask, what the deuce did it all mean—about this house of yours?"
