Randal withdrew. He had never seen a physician in that house before, and it seemed surprising that Egerton should even take a medical opinion upon a slight attack. While waiting in the ante-room there was a knock at the street door, and presently a gentleman, exceedingly well dressed, was shown in, and honored Randal with an easy and half familiar bow. Randal remembered to have met this personage at dinner, and at the house of a young nobleman of high fashion, but had not been introduced to him, and did not even know him by name. The visitor was better informed.
“Our friend Egerton is busy, I hear, Mr. Leslie,” said he, arranging the camelia in his button-hole.
“Our friend Egerton!” It must be a very great man to say, “Our friend Egerton.”
“He will not be engaged long, I dare say,” returned Randal, glancing his shrewd, inquiring eye over the stranger’s person.
“I trust not: my time is almost as precious as his own. I was not so fortunate as to be presented to you when we met at Lord Spendquick’s. Good fellow, Spendquick: and decidedly clever.”
Lord Spendquick was usually esteemed a gentleman without three ideas.
Randal smiled.
In the meanwhile the visitor had taken out a card from an embossed morocco case, and now presented it to Randal, who read thereon “Baron Levy, No —, Bruton-street.”
The name was not unknown to Randal. It was a name too often on the lips of men of fashion not to have reached the ears of an habitué of good society.
Mr. Levy had been a solicitor by profession. He had of late years relinquished his ostensible calling; and not long since, in consequence of some services toward the negotiation of a loan, had been created a baron by one of the German kings. The wealth of Mr. Levy was said to be only equaled by his good nature to all who were in want of a temporary loan, and with sound expectations of repaying it some day or other.