“That last is a hard saying, my lord,” said George, with a laugh.
“It really depends mostly on your income,” answered the Marquis. “Good-night, Mr. Neston.”
George said good-night, and walked off, shrugging his shoulders at the thought that even so acute a man as Lord Mapledurham seemed unable to appreciate his position.
“They all want me to drop it,” he mused. “Well, I will, unless——! But to-morrow I’ll go to Liverpool.”
He was restless and excited. Home and bed seemed unacceptable, and he turned into the Themis Club, whence the machinations of the enemy had not yet ejected him. There, extended on a sofa and smoking a cigar, he found Sidmouth Vane.
“Why didn’t you come to Lord Mapledurham’s, Vane?” asked George.
“Oh, have you been there? I was dining with my chief. I didn’t know you knew Mapledurham.”
“I met him yesterday for the first time.”
“He’s a queer old sinner,” said Vane. “But have you heard the news?”