"With pleasure, sir; but the fact remains that it was partly on his account, and partly because of another, that she was dragged away from London—"
"What other?"
"Well, let us say—H.R.H."
"Sir," inquired Barnabas, frowning, "do you mean the Prince?"
"Sir," said Mr. Smivvle, with a smiling shake of the head, "I prefer the letters H.R.H. Anyhow, there were many rumors afloat at the time, and her guardian—a regular, tarry old sea dog, by George—drags her away from her brother's side, and buries her in the country, like the one-armed old pirate he is, eye to her money they tell me; regular old skinflint; bad as a Jew—damn him! But speaking of the race, sir, do you happen to—know anything?"
"I know that it is to be run on the fifteenth of July," said
Barnabas abstractedly.
"Oh, very good!" exclaimed Mr. Smivvle—"ha! ha!—excellent! knows it is to be run on the fifteenth; very facetious, curse me! But, joking apart, sir, have you any private knowledge? The Viscount, now, did he happen to tell you anything that—"
But, at this juncture, they were interrupted by a sudden tumult in the yard outside, a hubbub of shouts, the ring and stamp of hoofs, and, thereafter, a solitary voice upraised in oaths and curses. Barnabas sprang to his feet, and hurrying out into the yard, beheld a powerful black horse that reared and plunged in the grip of two struggling grooms; in an adjacent corner was the late rider, who sat upon a pile of stable-sweepings and swore, while, near by, perched precariously upon an upturned bucket, his slim legs stretched out before him, was a young exquisite—a Corinthian from top to toe—who rocked with laughter, yet was careful to keep his head rigid, so as to avoid crushing his cravat, a thing of wonder which immediately arrested the attention of Barnabas, because of its prodigious height, and the artful arrangement of its voluminous folds.
"Oh, dooce take me," he exclaimed in a faint voice, clapping a hand to his side, "I'll be shot if I saw anything neater, no, not even at Sadler's Wells! Captain Slingsby of the Guards in his famous double somersault! Oh, damme, Sling! I'd give a hundred guineas to see you do it again—I would, dooce take me!"
But Captain Slingsby continued to shake his fist at the great, black horse, and to swear with unabated fervor.