"Who said?"
"Tom Blackmore of the Guards."
"Then Tom Blackmore of the Guards lies—that's all. I never saw him—I never spoke to him—I don't know him; and how should he know me? And if he did, I wasn't there; and if I had been, what the devil was it to him? So besides telling lies, he tells impertinent lies, and he ought to be kicked."
"Well, of course as you say so, he must have made a mistake; but Caen is as open to you as to him, and there's no harm in the place; and he knows you by appearance."
"He knows everybody by appearance, it seems, and nobody knows him; and, by Jove, he describes more like a bailiff than a Guardsman."
"He's a thorough gentleman in every idea. Tom Blackmore is as nice a little fellow as there is in the world," battled Tom Sedley for his friend.
"Well, I wish you'd persuade that faultless gentleman to let me and my concerns alone. I have a reason in this case; and I don't mind if I tell you I was at Caen, and I suppose he did see me. But there was no romance in the matter, except the romance of the Stock Exchange and a Jew; and I wish, Tom, you'd just consider me as much as you do the old baronet, for my own sake, that is, for I'm pretty well dipped too, and don't want everyone to know when or where I go in quest of my Jews. I was—not very far from that about four months ago; and if you go about telling everyone, by Jove my uncle will guess what brought me there, and old fellows don't like post-obits on their own lives."
"My dear Cleve, I had not a notion——"
"Well, all you can do for me now, having spread the report, is to say that I wasn't there—I'm serious. Here we are."