"Just that, sir,—ever since eight o'clock s'morning—and nothing but sniffs—so fur." Here the bullet-headed man nodded and eyed the knob of his stick hungrily. But at this moment the door opened, and the dignified (though mournful) gentleman appeared, and informed Barnabas (with a sigh) that "his Lordship begged Mr. Beverley would walk upstairs."
Upstairs accordingly Barnabas stepped, and guided by a merry whistling, pushed open a certain door, and so found the Viscount busily engaged in the manufacture of a paper dart, composed of a sheet of the Gazette, in the midst of which occupation he paused to grip Barnabas by the hand.
"Delighted to see you, Bev," said he heartily, "pray sit down, my dear fellow—sit anywhere—no, not there—that's the toast, deuce take it! Oh, never mind a chair, bed'll do, eh? Yes, I'm rather late this morning, Bev,—but then I was so late last night that I was devilish early, and I'm making up for it,—must have steady nerves for the fifteenth, you know. Ah, and that reminds me!" Here the Viscount took up his unfinished dart and sighed over it. "I'm suffering from a rather sharp attack of Romanism, my dear fellow, my Honored Parent has been at it again, Bev, and then, I dropped two hundred pounds in Jermyn Street last night."
"Dropped it! Do you mean you lost it, or were you robbed?" inquired Barnabas the Simple. Now when he said this, the Viscount stared at him incredulously, but, meeting the clear gaze of the candid gray eyes, he smiled all at once and shook his head.
"Gad!" he exclaimed, "what a strange fellow you are, Bev. And yet I wouldn't have you altered, no, damme! you're too refreshing. You ask me 'did I lose it, or was I robbed?' I answer you,—both, my dear fellow. It was a case of sharps and flats, and—I was the flat."
"Ah,—you mean gambling, Dick?"
"Gambling, Bev,—at a hell in Jermyn Street."
"Two hundred pounds is a great deal of money to lose at cards," said
Barnabas, shaking his head gravely.
"Humph!" murmured the Viscount, busied upon his paper dart again, "you should congratulate me, I think, that it was no more,—might just as easily have been two thousand, you see, indeed I wonder it wasn't. Egad! the more I think of it, the more fortunate I consider myself. Yes, I certainly think you should congratulate me. Now—watch me hit Sling!" and the Viscount poised his completed dart.
"Captain Slingsby—here?" exclaimed Barnabas, glancing about.