"Yes, and one who will fight you tooth and nail."
"'Pon—my—precious soul! What a cursed scamp! What a most infernal black——Who is it?"
"No blackguard, sir," interrupted Gammon, very sternly; "but—a gentleman, perhaps, even, every way equal to yourself," he added with a cruel smile, "the Honorable Mr. Delamere, the son and heir of Lord De la Zouch."
"By jingo! you don't say so! Why, he's a hundred thousand a-year," interrupted Titmouse, turning very pale.
"Oh, that he has, at least," interposed Mr. Bloodsuck, who had nearly finished a rapid and most disgusting breakfast; "and two such bitter Tories you never saw or heard of before—for, like father, like son."
"Egad! is it?" inquired Titmouse, completely crestfallen. "Well! and what if—eh, Gammon? Isn't it?"
"It is a very serious business, sir, indeed," quoth Gammon, gravely.
"By Jove—isn't it a cursed piece of—impudence! What? Come into my borough? He might as well come into my house! Isn't one as much mine, as the other? It's as bad as housebreaking—but we're beforehand with him, anyhow, with those prime chaps at Gr——" Mr. Bloodsuck's teeth chattered; he glanced towards the door; and Gammon gave Titmouse a look which almost paralyzed, and at all events silenced him.
"They'll bleed freely?" said Bloodsuck, by-and-by, with a desperate effort to look concerned—whereas he was in a secret ecstasy at the profitable work in prospect for their house.