"Think, your Grace!" interrupted Gammon, bitterly and reproachfully.
"Well, sir—certainly the fact is, I may be mistaken as to that matter. I was not present; but, at all events, my Lord Dreddlington certainly says you told him—and he's told Lady Cecilia—and it's killing her—it is, sir!—By heavens, sir, I expect hourly to hear of both of their deaths!—and I beg to ask you, sir, once for all, have you ever made any such statement to my Lord Dreddlington?"
"Not a syllable—never a breath of the sort in all my life!" replied Gammon, boldly, and rather sharply, as if indignant at being pressed about anything so absurd.
"What!—nothing of the sort? or to that effect?" exclaimed the duke, with mingled amazement and incredulity.
"Certainly—certainly not!—But let me ask, in my turn, is the fact so? Does your Grace mean to say that"——
"No, sir," interrupted the duke, but not speaking in his former confident tone—"but my Lord Dreddlington does!"
"Oh, impossible! impossible!" cried Gammon, with an incredulous air—"Only consider for one moment—how could the fact possibly be so and I not know it! Why, I am familiar with every step of his pedigree!" The duke drummed vehemently with his finger on the table, and stared at Gammon with the air of a man suddenly and completely nonplussed.
"Why, Mr. Gammon, then my Lord Dreddlington must have completely lost his senses! He declares that you told him that such was the fact!—When and where, may I ask, did you first see him to-day?"
"About half-past eleven or twelve o'clock, when he called at my chambers in a state of the greatest agitation and excitement, occasioned by the announcement in this morning's paper of the sudden blow-up of the Artificial"——
"Good Heaven! why, is that gone?" interrupted his Grace, eagerly and alarmedly, starting up from his seat—"When? why? how?—By Heaven, it's enough to turn any one's head!"