"Dick, be reasonable,—listen—"
"Have the goodness to let me pass, sir."
"You are faint, worn out—stay here, Dick, and I—"
"Thanks, Beverley, but I accept favors from my friends only—pray stand aside."
"Dick, if you'll only wait, I'll go to her now—this moment—I'll beg her to see you—"
"Very kind, sir!" sneered the Viscount, "you are—privileged it seems. But, by God, I don't need you, or any one else, to act as go-between or plead my cause. And mark me, sir! I'll find her yet. I swear to you I'll never rest until I find her again. And now, sir, once and for all, I have the honor to wish you a very good day!" saying which the Viscount bowed, and, having re-settled his arm in its sling, walked away down the corridor, very upright as to back, yet a little uncertain in his stride nevertheless, and so was gone.
Then Barnabas, becoming aware of the polite letters, and cards, embossed, gilt-edged and otherwise, swept them incontinent to the floor and, sinking into a chair, set his elbows upon the table, and leaning his head upon his hands fell into a gloomy meditation. It was thus that the Gentleman-in-Powder presently found him, and, advancing into the room with insinuating legs, coughed gently to attract his attention, the which proving ineffectual, he spoke:
"Ex-cuse me, sir, but there is a—person downstairs, sir—at the door, sir!"
"What kind of person?" inquired Barnabas without looking up.
"A most ex-tremely low person, sir—very common indeed, sir. Won't give no name, sir, won't go away, sir. A very 'orrid person—in gaiters, sir."