John had not noticed the Caterpillar before. He stood up, spick and span, carefully adjusting his coat, pulling down his immaculate cuffs.
"Good old Caterpillar," said somebody. "By Jove, he really thinks that Trieve will listen to—him!"
"Any one who has been nearly three years in this house," said the Caterpillar, "has the right to tell Miss Trieve that she is—er—not behaving like a lady."
"And he'll tell you you're screwed, you old fool."
"I am not screwed," replied the Caterpillar, solemnly. "Whisky and potass does not agree with everybody; but I am not screwed, not at all." So speaking he sat down rather suddenly.
Lovell shrugged his shoulders, glanced at the Caterpillar and Scaife, and left the room. Within two minutes he returned, chapfallen and frowning.
"I knew it would be useless. Look here, Demon, you must grin and bear it."
"No," said Scaife, "not from Miss Trieve."
He laughed as before. The Fifth exchanged glances. Then Scaife said thickly, "Give me another drink, I want a drink; so does young Verney. Look at him!"
John was white about the gills and trembling, but not for himself.