Bright said nothing, but continued to dust himself, though there was not the least mark on his clothes.
“Upon my word,” observed Crowdie, walking slowly up and down in his ungraceful way, “I think we’d better call a meeting at once and have him requested to take his name off. If that isn’t conduct unbecoming a gentleman, I don’t know what is.”
“No,” said Miner. “That wouldn’t do. It would stick to him for life. All the same, Bright, this is a club—it isn’t a circus—and this sort of horse-play is just a little too much. Why don’t you turn round? There’s no dust on you—they keep the floor of the arena swept on purpose when Ralston’s about. But it’s got to stop—it’s got to stop right here.”
Bright’s big shoulders squared themselves all at once and he faced about, apparently quite cool again.
“I say,” he began, “did anybody see that but you two?” He looked up and down the deserted hall.
“No—wait a bit, though—halloa! Where are the hall servants? There ought to be two of them. They must have just gone off. There they are, on the other side of the staircase. Robert! And you—whatever your name is—come here!”
The two servants came forward at once. They had retired to show their discretion and at the same time to observe what happened, the moment they had seen Bright catch Ralston’s arm.
“Look here,” said Bright to them. “If you say anything about what you saw just now, you’ll have to go. Do you understand? As we shan’t speak of it, we shall know that you have, if it’s talked about. That’s all right—you can go now. I just wanted you to understand.”
The two servants bowed gravely. They respected Bright, and, like all servants, they worshiped Ralston. There was little fear of their indiscretion. Bright turned to Crowdie and Miner.
“If anybody has anything to say about this, I have,” he said. “I’m the injured person if any one is. And of course I shall say nothing, and I’ll beg you to say nothing either. Of course, if he ever falls foul of you, you’re free to do as you please, and of course you might, if you chose, bring this thing before the committee. But I know you won’t speak of it—either of you. We’ve all been screwed once or twice in our lives, I suppose. As for me, I’m his friend, and he didn’t know what he was doing. He’s a deuced good fellow at heart, but he’s infernally hasty when he’s had too much. That’s all right, isn’t it? I can trust you, can’t I?”