Yet, my dears, should I win or lose, I would have you
remember me always as Your dutiful, loving BARNABAS.
* * * * * Now, as Barnabas laid down his pen, he became aware of voices and
loud laughter from the adjacent coffee-room, and was proceeding to
fold and seal his letter when he started and raised his head, roused
by the mention of his own name spoken in soft, deliberate tones that
he instantly recognized: "Ah, so you have met this Mr. Beverley?"
"Yes," drawled another, deeper voice, "the Duchess introduced him to
me. Who the deuce is he, Chichester?"
"My dear Carnaby, pray ask Devenham, or Jerningham, he's their
protege--not mine."
"Sir," broke in the Viscount's voice, speaking at its very iciest,--
"Mr. Beverley is--my friend!"
"And mine also, I trust!" thus the Marquis.
"Exactly!" rejoined Mr. Chichester's smooth tones, "and, consequently,
despite his mysterious origin, he is permitted to ride in the
Steeplechase among the very elite of the sporting world--"
"And why not, b'gad?" Captain Slingsby's voice sounded louder and
gruffer than usual, "I'll warrant him a true-blue,--sportsman every
inch, and damme! one of the right sort too,--sit a horse with any
man,--bird at a fence, and ready to give or take odds on his chances,
I'll swear--"
"Now really," Mr. Chichester's tone was softer than ever, "he would
seem to be a general favorite here. Still, it would, at least,
be--interesting to know exactly who and what he is."
"Yes," Sir Mortimer's voice chimed in, "and only right in justice to
ourselves. Seems to me, now I come to think of it, I've seen him
somewhere or other, before we were introduced,--be shot if I know
where, though."
"In the--country, perhaps?" the Viscount suggested.
"Like as not," returned Sir Mortimer carelessly. "But, as Chichester
says, it is devilish irregular to allow any Tom, Dick, or Harry to
enter for such a race as this. If, as Sling suggests, the fellow is
willing to back himself, it would, at least, be well to know that he
could cover his bets."
"Sir Mortimer!" the Viscount's tone was colder and sharper than
before, "you will permit me, in the first place, to tell you that
his name is neither Tom, nor Dick, nor Harry. And in the second place,
I would remind you that the gentleman honors me with his friendship.
And in the third place, that I suffer no one to cast discredit upon
my friends. D'you take me, Sir Mortimer?"
There followed a moment of utter stillness, then the sudden scrape
and shuffle of feet, and thereafter Carnaby's voice, a little raised
and wholly incredulous: "What, Viscount,--d'you mean to take this fellow's part--against me?"
"Most certainly, if need be."
But here, before Sir Mortimer could reply, all five started and
turned as the door opened and Barnabas appeared on the threshold.