"Pray," said he suddenly, yet with his gaze still far away,
"do you chance to be acquainted with a Sir Mortimer Carnaby?"
"Acquainted," cried his Lordship, speaking with his mouth full.
"Oh, Gad, sir, every one who _is_ any one is acquainted with Sir
Mortimer Carnaby."
"Ah!" said Barnabas musingly, "then you probably know him."
"He honors me with his friendship."
"Hum!" said Barnabas.
Here his Lordship glanced up quickly and with a slight contraction
of the brow.
"Sir," he retorted, with a very creditable attempt at dignity,
despite the stocks and his hunch of bread and meat, "Sir, permit me
to add that I am proud of his friendship."
"And pray," inquired Barnabas, turning his eyes suddenly to his
companion's face, "do you like him?"
"Like him, sir!"
"Or trust him!" persisted Barnabas, steadfast-eyed.
"Trust him, sir," his Lordship repeated, his gaze beginning to wander,
"trust him!" Here, chancing to espy what yet remained of the bread
and meat, he immediately took another bite, and when he spoke it was
in a somewhat muffled tone in consequence. "Trust him? Egad, sir,
the boot's on t'other leg, for 'twixt you and me, I owe him a cool
thousand, as it is!"
"He is a great figure in the fashionable world, I understand," said
Barnabas.
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