At length he yawned, stretched himself, and rose; walked coolly to the glass, and having surveyed himself therein, turned round and honoured Nicholas with a long and contemptuous stare. Nicholas stared again with right good-will; Sir Mulberry shrugged his shoulders, smiled slightly, rang the bell, and ordered the waiter to help him on with his greatcoat.
The man did so, and held the door open.
‘Don’t wait,’ said Sir Mulberry; and they were alone again.
Sir Mulberry took several turns up and down the room, whistling carelessly all the time; stopped to finish the last glass of claret which he had poured out a few minutes before, walked again, put on his hat, adjusted it by the glass, drew on his gloves, and, at last, walked slowly out. Nicholas, who had been fuming and chafing until he was nearly wild, darted from his seat, and followed him: so closely, that before the door had swung upon its hinges after Sir Mulberry’s passing out, they stood side by side in the street together.
There was a private cabriolet in waiting; the groom opened the apron, and jumped out to the horse’s head.
‘Will you make yourself known to me?’ asked Nicholas in a suppressed voice.
‘No,’ replied the other fiercely, and confirming the refusal with an oath. ‘No.’
‘If you trust to your horse’s speed, you will find yourself mistaken,’ said Nicholas. ‘I will accompany you. By Heaven I will, if I hang on to the foot-board.’
‘You shall be horsewhipped if you do,’ returned Sir Mulberry.
‘You are a villain,’ said Nicholas.