"I have not the pleasure to be acquainted with you, sir; but if you can supply me with any reason for this display of temper, believe me—"
"My name is Goodwyn-Sandys, sir, at your—"
"What!"
Mr. Fogo dropped the cocked hat and sat down suddenly among the cakes.
"Are you," he gasped—"are you Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys—the Honourable Frederic Augustus Hythe Good—? Heavens!"
"No, sir," said the Honourable Frederic, who had grown a thought pale. "Good wyn, sir—Goodwyn-Sandys. What then?"
"I never saw your face before," murmured Mr. Fogo faintly.
"That, sir, if a misfortune, is one which you share with a number of your fellow-men. And permit me to tell you, sir," continued Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys, with unaccountable change of mood, "that I consider your treatment of my friend Admiral Buzza unworthy of a gentleman, sir—unworthy of a gentleman. Come, Doctor; come, Pellow—I want a word or two more with you about this Club."
And Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys ruffled away, followed by his two slightly puzzled companions.
For the space of two minutes Mr. Fogo gazed up the road after them. Then he sighed, took off his spectacles, and wiped them carefully.