"Clemency!" said Barnabas.

The Viscount stared, opened his mouth, shut it, ran his fingers through his hair, and fell flat upon his pillows again.

"So now," said Barnabas the persistent, "now you know why I am so anxious to meet Jasper Gaunt."

"Gaunt!" said the Viscount dreamily, "Gaunt!"

"Captain Slingsby has to see him this afternoon,—at least so you said, and I was wondering—"

"Slingsby! Oh, egad I forgot! so he has,—curricle's ordered for half-past three. Will you oblige me by prodding him with your cane, Bev? Don't be afraid,—poke away, my dear fellow, Sling takes a devil of a lot of waking."

Thus admonished, Barnabas presently succeeded in arousing the somnolent Slingsby, who, lifting a drowsy head, blinked sleepily, and demanded in an injured tone:

"Wha' the dooce it was all about, b'gad?" Then having yawned prodigiously and come somewhat to himself, he proceeded to crawl from under the settee, when, catching sight of Barnabas, he sprang lightly to his feet and greeted him cordially.

"Ah, Beverley!" he cried,—"how goes it? Glad you woke me—was having a devil of a dream. Thought the 'Rascal' had strained his 'off' fore-leg, and was out of the race! What damnable things dreams are, b'gad!"

"My dear Sling," said the Viscount, "it is exactly a quarter past three."

"Oh, is it, b'gad! Well?"

"And at four o'clock I believe you have an appointment with Gaunt."

"Gaunt!" repeated the Captain, starting, and Barnabas saw all the light and animation die out of his face, "Gaunt,—yes, I—b'gad!—I 'd forgotten, Devenham."

"You ordered your curricle for half-past three, didn't you?"

"Yes, and I've no time to bathe—ought to shave, though, and oh, damme,—look at my cravat!"

"You'll find everything you need in my dressing-room, Sling."

The Captain nodded his thanks, and forthwith vanished into the adjacent chamber, whence he was to be heard at his ablutions, puffing and blowing, grampus-like. To whom thus the Viscount, raising his voice: "Oh, by the way, Sling, Beverley wants to go with you." Here the Captain stopped, as it seemed in the very middle of a puff, and when he spoke it was in a tone of hoarse incredulity:

"Eh,—b'gad, what's that?"

"He wants you to introduce him to Jasper Gaunt."

Here a sudden explosive exclamation, and, thereafter, the Captain appeared as in the act of drying himself, his red face glowing from between the folds of the towel while he stared from the Viscount to Barnabas with round eyes.

"What!" he exclaimed at last, "you, too, Beverley! Poor devil, have you come to it—and so soon?"

"No," said Barnabas, shaking his head, "I wish to see him on behalf of another—"

"Eh? Another? Oh—!"

"On behalf of Mr. Ronald Barrymaine."

"Of Barrym—" Here the Captain suddenly fell to towelling himself violently, stopped to stare at Barnabas again, gave himself another futile rub or two, and, finally, dropped the towel altogether. "On behalf of—oh b'gad!" he exclaimed, and incontinent vanished into the dressing-room. But, almost immediately he was back again, this time wielding a shaving brush. "Wish to see—Gaunt, do you?" he inquired.

"Yes," said Barnabas.

"And," said the Captain, staring very hard at the shaving brush, "not—on your own account?"

"No," answered Barnabas.

"But on behalf—I think you said—of—"

"Of Ronald Barrymaine," said Barnabas.

"Oh!" murmured the Captain, and vanished again. But now Barnabas followed him.

"Have you any objection to my going with you?" he inquired.

"Not in the least," answered the Captain, making hideous faces at himself in the mirror as he shaved, "oh, no—delighted, 'pon my soul, b'gad—only—"

"Well?"

"Only, if it's time you're going to ask for—it's no go, my boy—hard-fisted old rasper, you know the saying,—(Bible, I think), figs, b'gad, and thistles, bread from stones, but no mercy from Jasper Gaunt."

"I don't seek his mercy," said Barnabas.

"Why, then, my dear Beverley—ha! there's Jenk come up to say the curricle's at the door."

Sure enough, at the moment, the Viscount's gentleman presented himself to announce the fact, albeit mournfully and with a sigh. He was about to bow himself out again when the Viscount stayed him with an upraised finger.

"Jenkins," said he, "my very good Jenk!"

"Yes, m'lud?" said Jenkins.

"Is the person with the—ah—bristles—still downstairs?"

"He is, m'lud," said Jenkins, with another sigh.

"Then tell him to possess his soul in patience, Jenk,—for I fear he will remain there a long, long time."

CHAPTER XXXIV

OF THE LUCK OF CAPTAIN SLINGSBY, OF THE GUARDS

"You don't mind if we—drive about a bit, do you, Beverley?"

"Not in the least."

"I—er—I generally go the longest way round when I have to call on—"

"On Gaunt?"

"Yes."