Chichester's tone was softer than ever, "he would
seem to be a general favorite here. Still, it would, at least,
be--interesting to know exactly who and what he is."
"Yes," Sir Mortimer's voice chimed in, "and only right in justice to
ourselves. Seems to me, now I come to think of it, I've seen him
somewhere or other, before we were introduced,--be shot if I know
where, though."
"In the--country, perhaps?" the Viscount suggested.
"Like as not," returned Sir Mortimer carelessly. "But, as Chichester
says, it _is_ devilish irregular to allow any Tom, Dick, or Harry to
enter for such a race as this. If, as Sling suggests, the fellow is
willing to back himself, it would, at least, be well to know that he
could cover his bets."
"Sir Mortimer!" the Viscount's tone was colder and sharper than
before, "you will permit me, in the first place, to tell you that
his name is neither Tom, nor Dick, nor Harry. And in the second place,
I would remind you that the gentleman honors me with his friendship.
And in the third place, that I suffer no one to cast discredit upon
my friends. D'you take me, Sir Mortimer?"
There followed a moment of utter stillness, then the sudden scrape
and shuffle of feet, and thereafter Carnaby's voice, a little raised
and wholly incredulous:
"What, Viscount,--d'you mean to take this fellow's part--against me?"
"Most certainly, if need be.
Pages:
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476