"I heard him say so," returned the young man. "But, if he hasn't made up his book, I don't mind betting him five hundred pounds—hic—to his four—that's the odds, I believe——"
"Yes—those are the odds," observed Mr. Chichester, carelessly: then, taking out his book, he said, "But I am already so deep in this fight, that I really am afraid——however, if you wish it, I don't mind——"
"Is it a bet, then, sir?" asked the young gentleman, looking round the room with an air of importance, as if he were quite accustomed to the thing, although it was in reality the first wager he had ever laid in his life.
"It shall be so, if you choose, sir," returned Chichester: then, glancing in an inquiring manner towards his new acquaintance, he said with a bland smile, "I really beg your pardon—but I have not the pleasure——"
"Oh! truly—you don't know me from Adam!" interrupted the other. "But you shall know me, sir—and I hope we shall know each other better too—hic."
He then produced his card; and Mr. Chichester, of course, affected not to have been previously aware of the young gentleman's name.
The bet between them was duly recorded—by Mr. Chichester in his little book, and by Mr. Albert Egerton on the back of a love-letter.
The latter gentleman then called for his bill, and having glanced at the amount, paid it without a murmur, adding a munificent donation for the waiter. Having effected this arrangement, by means of which he got rid of the women who had fastened themselves on him, he coolly passed round to the table at which his new acquaintances were seated, and called for another bottle of champagne.
When it was brought, he was about to pay for it; but Sir Rupert interrupted him, saying, "No—that would be too bad. If you sit at our table, you are our guest;—and here's to a better acquaintance."
The bottle went round rapidly; and Mr. Egerton became quite enchanted with the agreeable manners of Sir Rupert Harborough, Bart., and the off-hand pleasant conversation of the Honourable Arthur Chichester.