The Earl drew out a chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down. From under the shade of his curly-brimmed hat, which he wore tilted rather over his face, his eyes mocked unpleasantly. “You think I might be chary of being seen in your company? Very true, but I believe my credit with the world to be fairly good. My reputation may yet survive. You may sit down.”
“I have every intention of so doing,” retorted Farnaby, suiting the action to the word and tossing off what remained of his second glass of daffy. “I am sure I am highly honoured to have your lordship’s company!”
“Make the most of it then,” advised the Earl, “for it is not an honour that is likely to befall you again.”
Farnaby’s hand fidgeted with his empty glass; he was watching the Earl covertly. “Indeed! And what may your lordship mean?”
“Merely that I shall have no further need of your company after to-night, Farnaby. Circumstance has caused our paths to cross, but they diverge again now, quite widely, I assure you.”
“If I had the pleasure of understanding your lordship—!”
“I should not have thought that you would derive much pleasure from that,” said the Earl. “But if you do, enjoy it to the full, for I think you understand me tolerably well.”
“I assure you I do not, sir. I am at a loss to discover why you should take this tone with me, and I may add, my lord, that I resent it!”
The Earl took out his snuff-box and opened it. He inhaled a pinch with deliberation. “You are not in a position to resent any tone I may choose to take, Farnaby,” he said. He laid his box down open on the table and leaned back in his chair, his driving coat falling open to show a glimpse of a light waistcoat and a blue coat, and the irreproachable folds of his cravat, “Let us be frank,” he said. “You have made a stupid bungle of a very simple affair, Farnaby.”
Farnaby shot a quick look round. “Sir!”