His Excellency crushed the letter in his hand, and puffed very vigorously at his pipe, which was nearly extinguished. ‘Must go,’ said he at last, as a fresh volume of smoke rolled forth.
‘That I can believe—that I can understand, my lord. When you tell me you cease to endorse my pledges, I feel I am a bankrupt in your esteem.’
‘Others smashed in the same insolvency—inconceivable blunder—where was Cartwright?—what was Holmes about? No one in Dublin to keep you out of this cursed folly?’
‘Until your lordship’s patience will permit me to say a few words, I cannot hope to justify my conduct.’
‘No justifying—no explaining—no! regular smash and complete disgrace. Must go.’
‘I am quite ready to go. Your Excellency has no need to recall me to the necessity.’
‘Knew it all—and against my will, too—said so from the first—thing I never liked—nor see my way in. Must go—must go.’
‘I presume, my lord, I may leave you now. I want a bath and a cup of coffee.’
‘Answer that!’ was the gruff reply, as he tossed across the table a few lines signed, ‘Bertie Spencer, Private Secretary.’
‘“I am directed to request that Mr. Walpole will enable the Right Honourable Mr. Annihough to give the flattest denial to the inclosed.”’