The Amateur Gentleman

3 P.M.--I have opened this letter to tell you that

Mr. Chichester and Ronald called here and stayed an hour.

Ronald was full of his woes, as usual, so I left him to

Cleone, and kept Mr. Chichester dancing attendance on

me. And, oh dear me! to see the white rage of the

man! It was deliciously thrilling, and I shivered most

delightfully.

"You sent for me, sir?" said Peterby, as Barnabas re-folded the

letter.

"Yes, John. Are you sure there is no other letter this morning

from--from Hawkhurst?"

"Quite, sir."

"Yet the Duchess tells me that the Lady Cleone wrote me also. This

letter came by the post this morning?"

"Yes, sir."

"And no other? It's very strange!"

But here, the Gentleman-in-Powder re-appeared to say that the

Marquis of Jerningham desired to see Mr. Beverley on a matter of

importance, and that nobleman presenting himself, Peterby withdrew.

"Excuse this intrusion, my dear Beverley," said the Marquis as the

door closed, "doocid early I know, but the--ah--the matter is

pressing. First, though, how's Devenham, you saw him last night as

usual, I suppose?"

"Yes," answered Barnabas, shaking hands, "he ought to be up and

about again in a day or two."

"Excellent," nodded the Marquis, "I'll run over to Half-moon Street

this afternoon. Is Bamborough with him still?"

"No, his Lordship left yesterday."

"Ha!" said the Marquis, and taking out his snuff-box, he looked at it,

tapped it, and put it away again. "Poor old Sling," said he gently,

"I miss him damnably, y'know, Beverley."

"Marquis," said Barnabas, "what is it?"

"Well, I want you to do me a favor, my dear fellow, and I don't know

how to ask you--doocid big favor--ah--I was wondering if you would

consent to--act for me?"

"Act for you?" repeated Barnabas, wholly at a loss.

"Yes, in my little affair with Carnaby--poor old Sling, d' you see.

What, don't you twig, Beverley, haven't you heard?"

"No!" answered Barnabas, "you don't mean that you and Carnaby are

going--to fight?"

"Exactly, my dear fellow, of course! He fouled poor old Sling at the

wall, y'know--you saw it, I saw it, so naturally I mean to call him

to account for it. And he can't refuse--I spoke doocid plainly, and

White's was full. He has the choice of weapons,--pistols I expect.

Personally, I should like it over as soon as possible, and anywhere

would do, though Eltham for preference, Beverley. So if you will

oblige me--"

But here, once again the Gentleman-in-Powder knocked to announce:

"Mr. Tressider."

The thinnish, youngish gentleman in sandy whiskers entered with a

rush, but, seeing the Marquis, paused.

"What, then--you 're before me, are you, Jerningham?" he exclaimed;

then turning, he saluted Barnabas, and burst into a torrent of speech.

"Beverley!" he cried, "cursed early to call, but I'm full o'

news--bursting with it, damme if I'm not--and tell it I must! First,

then, by Gad!--it was at White's you'll understand, and the

card-room was full--crammed, sir, curse me if it wasn't, and there's

Carnaby and Tufton Green, and myself and three or four others,

playing hazard, d'ye see,--when up strolls Jerningham here. 'It's

your play, Carnaby,' says I. 'Why then,' says the Marquis,--'why then,'

says he, 'look out for fouling!' says he, cool as a cucumber, curse

me! 'Eh--what?' cries Tufton, 'why--what d' ye mean?' 'Mean?' says

the Marquis, tapping his snuff-box, 'I mean that Sir Mortimer Carnaby

is a most accursed rascal' (your very words, Marquis, damme if they

weren't). Highly dramatic, Beverley--could have heard a pin

drop--curse me if you couldn't! End of it was they arranged a

meeting of course, and I was Carnaby's second, but--"