After giving this his consideration, Mr. Wychbold admitted that he might be spared the facer on these terms.
“Will you do it?” Sophy asked him. “If I were to send you word to your lodgings, would you make certain that Charles knows of it? Is he not always at White’s in the afternoon?”
“Well, you may generally find him there, but I would not say always,” replied Mr. Wychbold cautiously. “Besides, I shan’t see you driving off!”
“You may, if you choose to give yourself the trouble of walking around to Berkeley Square!” she retorted. “If you have word from me, you will know it to be true and may tell Charles with a clear conscience. I’ll take care he knows of it when he comes home, but sometimes he does not come in to dinner, and that would ruin everything! Well, no, not everything, perhaps, but I have always found it to be an excellent scheme to kill two birds with one stone whenever it may be possible!”
Mr. Wychbold gave this his profound consideration. Having turned all the implications of Sophy’s words over in his brain, he said suddenly, “Know what I think?”
“No, tell me!”
“No wish to throw a rub in the way, mind!” Mr. Wychbold said. “Not a particular friend of mine, Charlbury. Very good sort of fellow, I believe, but he don’t happen to have come much in my way.”
“But what do you think?” demanded Sophy, impatient of this divagation.
“Think Charles may very likely call him out,” said Mr. Wychbold. “Come to think of it, bound to! Devilish fine shot, Charles. Just thought I would mention it!” he added apologetically.
“You are right, and I am very much obliged to you for putting me in mind of such a possibility!” said Sophy warmly. “I would not for the world place Charlbury in jeopardy! But there will not be the least need for such a measure, you know.”