"
"Excellent," nodded the Marquis, "I'll run over to Half-moon Street
this afternoon. Is Bamborough with him still?"
"No, his Lordship left yesterday."
"Ha!" said the Marquis, and taking out his snuff-box, he looked at it,
tapped it, and put it away again. "Poor old Sling," said he gently,
"I miss him damnably, y'know, Beverley."
"Marquis," said Barnabas, "what is it?"
"Well, I want you to do me a favor, my dear fellow, and I don't know
how to ask you--doocid big favor--ah--I was wondering if you would
consent to--act for me?"
"Act for you?" repeated Barnabas, wholly at a loss.
"Yes, in my little affair with Carnaby--poor old Sling, d' you see.
What, don't you twig, Beverley, haven't you heard?"
"No!" answered Barnabas, "you don't mean that you and Carnaby are
going--to fight?"
"Exactly, my dear fellow, of course! He fouled poor old Sling at the
wall, y'know--you saw it, I saw it, so naturally I mean to call him
to account for it. And he can't refuse--I spoke doocid plainly, and
White's was full. He has the choice of weapons,--pistols I expect.
Personally, I should like it over as soon as possible, and anywhere
would do, though Eltham for preference, Beverley.
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