"May I, without impropriety, ask what is the trouble?" inquired the Beau.
"A friend of mine is in danger, Brummell. I must raise one thousand pounds before dawn."
"A thousand pounds!" exclaimed Brummell, horrified. "Good Lord!"
Then, as the Beau had recourse to his scent-bottle for the stimulation necessary to revive him from the shock inflicted by Moore's words, the poet gripped Sheridan by the arm in sudden hope.
"I 'll appeal to the Prince Regent himself, Sherry."
Sheridan shook his head in dissent.
"Tommy, boy, remember he is Sir Percival's intimate friend."
"But his Highness likes me. Surely he would interfere?"
"Tom," said Brummell solemnly, "if there is a woman in the case do not waste your time and exhaust the patience of Wales. His Highness is a greater rake than Percy Lovelace ever dreamed of being."
"He would not see a woman so coerced," persisted Moore.