Titmouse's heart was lying fluttering at his throat.
"Tittlebat, Tittlebat!" continued Gammon, dropping his voice, and speaking in a very kind and earnest manner, "if you did but know the extent to which an accident has placed you in my power! at this moment in my power! Really I almost tremble, myself, to think of it!" He rose, brought his chamber-candlestick out of the hall—lit it—bade Titmouse good-night, sadly but sternly—and shook him by the hand—"I may rid you of my presence to-morrow morning, Mr. Titmouse. I shall leave you to try to enjoy Yatton! May you find a truer—a more powerful friend than you will have lost in me!" Titmouse never shrank more helplessly under the eye of Mr. Gammon than he did at that moment.
"You—you—won't stop and smoke another cigar with a poor devil, will you, Mr. Gammon?" he inquired faintly. "It's somehow—most uncommon lonely in this queer, large, old-fashioned"——
"No, sir," replied Gammon, peremptorily—and withdrew, leaving Titmouse in a state of mingled alarm and anger—the former, however, predominating.
"By jingo!" he at length exclaimed with a heavy sigh, after a revery of about three minutes, gulping down the remainder of his brandy and water, "If that same gent, Mr. Gammon, a'n't the—the—devil—he's the very best imitation of him that ever I heard tell of!" Here he glanced furtively round the room; then he got a little flustered; rang his bell quickly for his valet, and, followed by him, retired to his dressing-room.
The next morning the storm had entirely blown over. When they met at breakfast, Titmouse, as Gammon had known would be the case, was all submission and respect; in fact, it was evident that he was thoroughly frightened by what had fallen from Gammon, but infinitely more so by the manner in which he had spoken over-night. Gammon, however, preserved for some little time the haughty air with which he had met Titmouse; but a few words of the latter, expressing deep regret for what he had said through having drunk too much—poor little soul!—over-night, and his unqualifyingly submitting to every one of the requisitions which had been insisted on by Mr. Gammon—quickly dispersed the cloud settled on that gentleman's brow, when he entered the breakfast-room.
"Now, my dear Mr. Titmouse," said he, very graciously, "you show yourself the gentleman I always took you for—and I forget, forever, all that passed between us, so unpleasantly, last night. I am sure it will never be so again: for now we entirely understand each other?"
"Oh yes—'pon my life—quite entirely!" replied Titmouse, meekly, with a crestfallen air.
Soon after breakfast they adjourned, at Gammon's request, to the billiard-room; where, though that gentleman knew how to handle a cue, and Titmouse did not, he expressed great admiration for Titmouse's play, and felt great interest in being shown by him how to get a ball, now and then, into each pocket at one stroke, a masterly manœuvre in which Titmouse succeeded two or three times, and Gammon not once, during their hour's play. Upon that occasion had occurred the conversation in which Titmouse made the suggestion we have already heard of, viz. that Gammon should immediately clap the screw upon Aubrey, with a view to squeezing out of him at least sufficient to pay the £10,000 bond, and their bill of costs, immediately; and Titmouse urged Gammon at once to send Aubrey packing after Yahoo to York Castle, as an inducement to an early settlement of the remainder. Gammon, however, assured Mr. Titmouse, that in all probability Mr. Aubrey had not a couple of thousand pounds in the world.
"Well, that will do to begin with," said Titmouse, "and the rest must come, sooner or later—eh, by Jove?"