When he had left the billiard-room the two young men looked at one another and Nigel Byrne laughed. "He took it very well, I think," he said. "Quite a nice fellow!"
William Despencer kept a grave face. "I wish I'd known he was there," he said. "Why didn't he let us know he was there when we came in?"
"Oh, I don't think he was eavesdropping. I say, let's look him up. I'm bound to say I never thought of him as anything but the usual rich city fellow, with no father to speak of."
"Like Melchizedek. I thought you were going to defend him against my aspersions, if he'd given you time."
"That was my famous tact, William. Eldridge of what, did he say? Ah, here it is."
There were current books of reference on a table in the billiard-room, and Byrne had opened one which dealt faithfully with the County Families and their genealogies.
"Oh, quite respectable!" he said, as they read the entry together. "He's next man in, too, do you see? Present man's only son killed in the war. He was at Harrow and Cambridge. We've done him an injustice, William. If at any time he likes to make a little contribution to party funds, and somebody or other recommends him for a peerage, he won't have to begin everything from the beginning like so many of them."
"Is that the idea?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say that. Peerages aren't bought and sold in the market, you know, William. You ought to know better than that."
"Well, I still think the mistake was a natural one," said William Despencer, turning away. "He's too elaborate altogether. Those clothes! Just what a rich city fellow would wear who'd just discovered Saville Row."