“On that evening,—just so. Before or after, may I isk?”
“I shall answer no further questions,” said I, resolutely. “If you have any charge against me, it is for you to prove it.”
“Charge against you!” said Bubbleton, laughing. “Bless your heart, boy, don't mistake him; they've sent him down to compliment you. Lord Castlereagh mentions in his note—Where the devil did I throw that note?”
“It's of no consequence, Captain,” said Barton, dryly; “his lordship usually intrusts the management of these matters to me. May I learn, is this young gentleman known in your regiment? Has he been at your mess?”
“Tom Burke known among us! Why, man, he 's called nothing but 'Burke of Ours.' He 's one of ourselves; not gazetted, you know, but all the same in fact. We could n't get on without him; he's like the mess-plate, or the orderly-book, or the regimental snuffbox.”
“I 'm sincerely sorry, sir,” rejoined Barton, slowly, “to rob you and the gallant Forty-fifth of one upon whom you place such just value; but 'Burke of Ours' must consent to be Burke of mine at present.”
“To be sure, my dear major, of course; anything convivial,—nothing like good fellowship. We'll lend him to you for to-day,—one day, mark me,—we can't spare him longer. And now I think of it, don't press him with his wine; he 's been poorly of late.”
“Have no fears on that score,” said Barton, laughing outright; “our habits of life, in his circumstances, are rigidly temperate.” Then, turning to me, he continued, in an altered voice: “I need scarcely explain to you, sir, the reason of my visit. When last we parted I did not anticipate that our next meeting would have been in a royal barrack; but you may thank your friend here for my knowledge of your abode—”
Bubbleton attempted to interpose here a panegyric on himself; but Barton went on,—
“Here is an order of the Privy Council for your apprehension; and here—”