CHAPTER LIX
THE ADJOURNED DEBATE
The fatal invitation to Mr. Sponge having been sent, the question that now occupied the minds of the assembled sharpers at Nonsuch House, was, whether he was a pigeon or one of themselves. That point occupied their very deep and serious consideration. If he was a 'pigeon,' they could clearly accommodate him, but if, on the other hand, he was one of themselves, it was painfully apparent that there were far too many of them there already. Of course, the subject was not discussed in full and open conclave—they were all highly honourable men in the gross—and it was only in the small and secret groups of those accustomed to hunt together and unburden their minds, that the real truth was elicited.
'What an ass Sir Harry is, to ask this Mr. Sponge,' observed Captain Quod to Captain Seedeybuck, as (cigar in mouth) they paced backwards and forwards under the flagged veranda on the west side of the house, on the morning that Sir Harry had announced his intention of asking him.
'Confounded ass,' assented Seedeybuck, from between the whiffs of his cigar.
'Dash it! one would think he had more money than he knew what to do with,' observed the first speaker, 'instead of not knowing where to lay hands on a halfpenny.'
'Soon be who-hoop,' here observed Quod, with a shake of the head.
'Fear so,' replied Seedeybuck. 'Have you heard anything fresh?'
'Nothing particular. The County Court bailiff was here with some summonses, which, of course, he put in the fire.'
'Ah! that's what he always does. He got tired of papering the smoking-room with them,' replied Seedeybuck.