"If I ever saw my name in that d—d paper," exclaimed Lord Tonnerre, while his brow was knit in tremendous frowns, "if ever allusion were made to me—the writer should eat his words."
"My dear Tonnerre," rejoined Lord Gascoigne, once more taking up the conversation, "you would find he has an ostrich's stomach. But why should such a toy trouble you?"
"By G——, the writer shall suffer," replied Lord Tonnerre, furiously, "he shall suffer—he shall pay—"
"Who," asked Lady Boileau quietly, "who shall pay?"
"The scoundrel—the —— who has dared to use my name," answered Lord Tonnerre, after several efforts at utterance, which his passion for some moments impeded.
"But you must discover who is the who," replied Lord Gascoigne, with provoking calmness of manner.—"Junius himself was never hid so successfully as is this writer. You will find it fencing in the dark, Tonnerre, if you meddle with him.—But I see you are angry; now take my advice, when you are so use this antidote—it is an excellent rule I learned from my grandfather—repeat your alphabet; and that being done, your anger will be over too." Lord Tonnerre's face moved convulsively in every muscle, and his whole frame seemed to writhe under the words of Lord Gascoigne.
"He boils like a pot," whispered Spencer Newcombe.
"Oh, do not vex him, pray," said Lady Baskerville; "he is only nervous."