“Damn me, if I don’t flatter myself, though, one can make oneself famous enough to all intents and purposes without having any thing to say to these author geniuses. You’re a famous fellow, faith! to want to see yourself in print—I’ll publish this in Bond-street: damn it, in point of famousness, I’d sport my Random against all the books that ever were read or written, damn me! But what are we doing here?”
“Hervey’s in good hands,” said Rochfort, “and this here’s a cursed stupid lounge for us—besides, it’s getting towards dinner-time; so my voice is, let’s be off, and we can leave St. George (who has such a famous mind to be in the doctor’s book) to bring Clary after us, when he’s ready for dinner and good company again, you know—ha! ha! ha!”
Away the faithful friends went to the important business of their day.
When Clarence Hervey came to his senses he started up, rubbed his eyes, and looked about, exclaiming—“What’s all this?—Where am I?—Where’s Baddely?—Where’s Rochfort?—Where are they all?”
“Gone home to dinner,” answered Mr. St. George, who was a hanger-on of Sir Philip’s; “but they left me to bring you after them. Faith, Clary, you’ve had a squeak for your life! ‘Pon my honour, we thought at one time it was all over with you—but you’re a rough one: we shan’t have to ‘pour over your grave a full bottle of red’ as yet, my boy—you’ll do as well as ever. So I’ll step and call a coach for you, Clary, and we shall be at dinner as soon as the best of ‘em after all, by jingo! I leave you in good hands with the doctor here, that brought you to life, and the gentleman that dragged you out of the water. Here’s a note for you,” whispered Mr. St. George, as he leaned over Clarence Hervey—“here’s a note for you from Sir Philip and Rochfort: read it, do you mind, to yourself.”
“If I can,” said Clarence; “but Sir Philip writes a bloody bad hand.” [3]
“Oh, he’s a baronet,” said St. George, “ha! ha! ha!” and, charmed with his own wit, he left the boat-house.
Clarence with some difficulty deciphered the note, which contained these words:
“Quiz the doctor, Clary, as soon as you are up to it—he’s an author—so fair game—quiz the doctor, and we’ll drink your health with three times three in Rochfort’s burgundy.
“Yours, &c.