“I had gone into this bar-room to take a drink, by way of night-cap, and was standing by the counter, when I heard some one making rather free use of my name. Three men were close beside me, talking in a very fast style, and, as I soon discovered, about myself. They had been imbibing a good deal, and did not chance to see me.
“One of the three I had known in England, when we were both in the British service.
“The other two—Americans I suppose them—I had only seen for the first time some two days ago. Indeed, I had then a little difficulty with them, which I needn’t stay to trouble you about now; though I more than half expected to have had a challenge for that. It didn’t come, however; and you may guess what sort they are.
“It was my quondam acquaintance of the English army who was taking liberties with my character, in answer to inquiries the other two were putting to him.”
“What was he telling them?”
“No end of lies; the worst of them being that I had been kicked out of the British service! Of course it was also his last. After that—”
“After that you kicked him out of the bar-room. I fancy I can see you engaged in that little bit of foot practice!”
“I was not quite so rude as that. I only slashed him across the cheek with my glove, and then handed him my card.
“In truth, when you were announced I thought it was his friend, and not mine: though, knowing the man as I do, the idea of his sending a messenger so early rather surprised me.
“I’m glad you’ve come, Count. I was in a devil of a dilemma—being acquainted with nobody here who could have served me for a second. I suppose I can reckon upon you?”