"You have the advantage of me," said Sir Charles.
"I think I have," said the man grinning; "and what's more, I mean to keep it too. Lord, what a precious dance you have led me, to be sure!"
"Look here, sir," said Mitford "be good enough to tell me your business, and go. I'm engaged."
"Go! Oh, you're on the high jeff, are you? And engaged too! Going to drive your missis out in that pretty little trap I saw at the door? Well, I'm sorry to stop you; but you must."
"Must!"
"Yes, must. 'Tain't a nice word; but it's the word I want. Must; and I'll tell you why. You recollect Tony Butler?"
Sir Charles Mitford's colour, which had returned when he saw that his visitor was a stranger to him, and which had even increased under the insolence of the man's manner, fled at the mention of this name. His face and lips were quite white as he said, "I do indeed."
"Yes, I knew you would. Well, he's dead, Tony is."
"Thank God!" said Sir Charles; "he was a horrible villain."
"Yes," said the man pleasantly; "I think I'm with you in both those remarks. It's a good job he's dead; and he was a bad 'un, was Tony, though he was my brother."