“Um—a—Gomer,” he said, “those are contrasts which only vulgar minds draw. Wonder is the offspring of ignorance—um—a—don’t repeat, I pray, such observations.”
“And Pride is the parent of evil,” chuckled Gomer. “Ah, I used to write that in a copy-book. However, I have not come here to make reflections, or to bring disagreeable reminiscences before you. I came to inform you that, the day after to-morrow, you will have to appear against our cunning friend, Mr. Chewkle, who very nearly rendered the possession of the Eglinton estates a matter of no importance to you.”
“The atrocious assassin,” exclaimed Wilton. “I wonder how I escaped the villain’s bullet upon such favourable terms.”
“Do you not know?” asked Gomer, eyeing him keenly. “Um—a—well, by the providence of Heaven, his aim was bad, and my gamekeepers were at hand,” said Wilton, reflectively. “Truly it was a fortunate circumstance that they were near, or the wretch would have slain me. I have a faint remembrance of his kneeling upon my chest——”
“And of him whose hand clutched the scoundrel by the throat and dragged him off at the moment his hand was raised to terminate your existence?”
“Um—a—no, I do not recollect that. My senses left me: but I shall reward that individual liberally—in short I will place that matter in your hands, Gomer, to give to him whatever you may think will satisfy him—um—a—with my thanks.”
“Are you serious, Wilton?” asked Gomer, almost jeeringly.
“Sir!—-a—um-Mr. Gomer, pray inform me what there is in my manner or tone which implies that I have descended to jest on this subject?” exclaimed Mr. Wilton, with hauteur.
Nathan Gomer laughed and rubbed his hands.
“I asked the question because I suspect that you would not endorse my award,” he replied.