"Come along, Carron," said one of his friends. "All the fun's over, but it was jolly well worth seeing."
And as Jim turned he found himself face to face with Lord Deseret, who stood quietly tapping one hand with a bundle of bank-notes, folded lengthwise as though they were so many pipe-spills.
"Carron?" he said gently. "Which of you is Carron?"
"I am Jim Carron, sir--at your service." And the keen kindly eyes dwelt pleasantly on him and seemed to go right through him.
"Jim Carron?" said the old man, and tapped him on the arm with the wedge of bank-notes, and indicated an adjacent sofa and his desire for his company there. "And why not Denzil? It always has been Denzil, hasn't it?"
"Well, you see, there are two of us, sir, and we are both Denzil, so we are also Jack and Jim to prevent mistakes."
"Two of you, are there?"--with a slight knitting of the smooth white brow, on which all the wildest fluctuations of the tables had not produced the faintest ripple of emotion. "Two of you, eh? And which of you is Lady Susan Sandys's boy? Which is to be Carron of Carne when the time comes?"
"Ah, now! that is more that I can tell you, sir. We are a pair of unfortunate twins, and no one knows which is the elder."
"Twins, eh?" And even to Jim's unpractised eye there was a look of surprise on the calm white face. "That is somewhat awkward for the succession, isn't it? Which is the better man?"
"Oh--Jack, miles away. He's got a head on him. He's at Chatham in the Engineers. I'm in the Hussars."