"Gentlemen," said he, "I have the honor to salute you!
Viscount—your most dutiful, humble, obedient father to command."
"My Lord," answered the Viscount, gravely returning his father's bow, "your Lordship's most obliged and grateful son!"
"My dear Devenham," continued the Earl solemnly, "being, I fear, something of a fogy and fossil, I don't know if you Bucks allow the formality of shaking hands. Still, Viscount, as father and son—or rather son and father, it may perhaps be permitted us? How are you, Viscount?"
Now as they clasped hands, Barnabas saw the Viscount set his jaw grimly, and something glistened upon his temple, yet his smile was quite engaging as he answered:
"Thank you, my Lord,—never better!"
"Yes," said his Lordship, as he slowly relinquished the Viscount's hand, "your Grace was right, as usual,—it is his arm!"
"Then of course he cannot ride, Bamborough—you will forbid it?"
"On the contrary, madam, he must ride. Being a favorite, much money has changed hands already on his account, and, arm or no arm, he must ride now—he owes it to his backers. You intend to, of course, Horatio?"
"My Lord, I do."
"It's your right arm, luckily, and a horseman needs only his left.
You ride fairly well, I understand, Viscount?"