“I have got your full powers to treat, and you must trust me. Where are we to find Stapylton's friend?”
“He gave me an address which I never looked at. Here it is!” and he drew a card from his pocket.
“Captain Duff Brown, late Fifth Fusiliers, Holt's Hotel, Charing Cross.”
“Do you know him?” asked Barrington, as the other stood silently re-reading the address.
“Yes, thoroughly,” said he, with a dry significance. “The man who selects Duff Brown to act for him in an affair of honor must be in a sore strait. It is a sorry indorsement to character. He had to leave the service from the imputation of foul play in a duel himself; and I took an active part against him.”
“Will this make your position unpleasant to you,—would you rather not act for me?”
“Quite the reverse. It is more than ever necessary you should have some one who not only knows the men he is to deal with, but is known himself to them. It is a preliminary will save a world of trouble.”
“When can we set out?”
“To-night by the eight-o'clock packet, we can sail for Liverpool; but let us first of all despatch Fred to 'The Home.' The poor boy will be half dead with anxiety till he knows I have your permission.”
“I 'll accredit him with a letter to my sister; not that he needs it, for he is one of her prime favorites. And now for another point. Withering must be made believe that we are all off together for the country this evening. He is so opposed to this affair with Stapylton, that he is in a mood to do anything to prevent it.”