“You are playing awful stakes, my lord, in my patron's house,” Harry said, “and more games than are on the cards.”
“What do you mean, sir?” cries my lord, turning round, with a flush on his face.
“I mean,” answers Harry, in a sarcastic tone, “that your gout is well—if ever you had it.”
“Sir!” cried my lord, getting hot.
“And to tell the truth I believe your lordship has no more gout than I have. At any rate, change of air will do you good, my Lord Mohun. And I mean fairly that you had better go from Castlewood.”
“And were you appointed to give me this message?” [pg 145] cries the Lord Mohun. “Did Frank Esmond commission you?”
“No one did. 'Twas the honour of my family that commissioned me.”
“And you are prepared to answer this?” cries the other, furiously lashing his horses.
“Quite, my lord: your lordship will upset the carriage if you whip so hotly.”
“By George, you have a brave spirit!” my lord cried out, bursting into a laugh. “I suppose 'tis that infernal botte de Jésuite that makes you so bold,” he added.