Plenty of people did come in, but although he might nod to some of them, or exchange a brief greeting, his particular friends were not amongst them. Tom Belcher, the great Jem’s brother, strolled in arm in arm with old Bill Gibbons; Warr stood chatting awhile with Cribb before he went through into the parlour; Gentleman Jackson arrived with a party of Corinthians whom he was amusing with one of his stories. Mr. Farnaby watched them all without envy, and called for another glass of daffy.
The tap-room was full almost to overflowing when the door was pushed open and the Earl of Worth walked in. He stood on the threshold for a moment, looking round through the smoke of a score of pipes, and Tom Cribb, who had just come out of the parlour, saw him, and crossed the room to his side. “Good evening, my lord,” he said. “Glad to see your lordship. You’ll find a snug little gathering in the parlour to-night. Lord Yarmouth’s there, Colonel Aston, Sir Henry Smyth, Mr. Jackson, and I don’t know who besides. Will you go through, my lord?”
“Presently,” said the Earl. “I see someone here I want a word with first.”
“Here, my lord?” said Cribb, looking round at the company with a wrinkled brow.
“Yes, here,” said the Earl, and went past him with a swing of his caped driving-coat straight up to the table at which Mr. Farnaby was sitting.
Mr. Farnaby, who was idly watching a couple of men throwing dice at a neighbouring table, did not see the Earl until he stood right over him. He looked up then, and came to his feet in a hurry.
“Good evening,” said the Earl politely.
Farnaby made him a bow. “Good evening, sir,” he returned, looking sideways at the Earl.
Worth laid his cane on the table and began to draw off his gloves. “You were expecting me, no doubt,” he said.
“Oh no, hardly!” replied Farnaby, with a sneer. “I know your lordship is in the habit of frequenting Cribb’s Parlour, but I had no expectation of being recognized by you.”