“Then, why the plague,” said Mr Sheridan, opening his eyes, “all this exception to my attitude?”
“Because you choose—let me be plain, sir—to constitute yourself my rival in her favour.”
Mr Sheridan exploded into irrepressible laughter.
“Zounds!” he cried; “here, if I will not be something other than myself, I shall have my throat cut.”
“Is it,” said Ned firmly—“pardon me, sir—is it to be other than yourself to refrain from indulging a whim that is obviously another man’s distress?”
“My lord,” said Mr Sheridan, twinkling into sudden gravity and replenishing his glass, “this aspect of the case is such a one as I really had not considered. But let me assure you that you were one of the direct causes of my coming down here at all.”
“I?”
“You, most certainly.” (He crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward.) “Madame, by her own assertion, was being watched and shadowed. She claimed the protection of our laws. She appealed to our Government in the person of Mr Fox. The gracious office of succouring the afflicted he deputed to me. I hurried down to Bury St Edmunds, and the first suspicious character pointed out to me was my Lord Viscount Murk.”
“Ridiculous!”
“Of course. But the situation, you see, is none of my handling.”