The Amateur Gentleman

"Delighted to see you, Bev," said he heartily, "pray sit down, my

dear fellow--sit anywhere--no, not there--that's the toast, deuce

take it! Oh, never mind a chair, bed'll do, eh? Yes, I'm rather

late this morning, Bev,--but then I was so late last night that I

was devilish early, and I'm making up for it,--must have steady

nerves for the fifteenth, you know. Ah, and that reminds me!" Here

the Viscount took up his unfinished dart and sighed over it.

"I'm suffering from a rather sharp attack of Romanism, my dear fellow,

my Honored Parent has been at it again, Bev, and then, I dropped two

hundred pounds in Jermyn Street last night."

"Dropped it! Do you mean you lost it, or were you robbed?" inquired

Barnabas the Simple. Now when he said this, the Viscount stared at

him incredulously, but, meeting the clear gaze of the candid gray

eyes, he smiled all at once and shook his head.

"Gad!" he exclaimed, "what a strange fellow you are, Bev. And yet I

wouldn't have you altered, no, damme! you're too refreshing. You ask

me 'did I lose it, or was I robbed?' I answer you,--both, my dear

fellow. It was a case of sharps and flats, and--I was the flat."

"Ah,--you mean gambling, Dick?"

"Gambling, Bev,--at a hell in Jermyn Street."

"Two hundred pounds is a great deal of money to lose at cards," said

Barnabas, shaking his head gravely.

"Humph!" murmured the Viscount, busied upon his paper dart again,

"you should congratulate me, I think, that it was no more,--might

just as easily have been two thousand, you see, indeed I wonder it

wasn't. Egad! the more I think of it, the more fortunate I consider

myself. Yes, I certainly think you should congratulate me. Now--watch

me hit Sling!" and the Viscount poised his completed dart.

"Captain Slingsby--here?" exclaimed Barnabas, glancing about.

"Under the settee, yonder," nodded the Viscount, "wrapped up in the

table-cloth."

"Table-cloth!" repeated Barnabas.

"By way of military cloak," explained the Viscount. "You see--Sling

was rather--mellow, last night, and--at such times he always imagines

he's campaigning again--insists upon sleeping on the floor."

Now, looking where the Viscount pointed, Barnabas espied the touzled

head of Captain Slingsby of the Guards protruding from beneath the

settee, and reposing upon a cushion. The Captain's features were

serene, and his breathing soft and regular, albeit deepening, ever

and anon, into a gentle snore.