said you was bound to him for Friday next.”
“Oh, God, am I?” said the Marquis wearily.
“Don’t touch the brandy!” his uncle adjured him. “The burgundy’s well enough, and you can swallow the port, but the brandy’s devilish bad.”
“Given you a head, Rupert?” inquired his lordship solicitously.
“Worst I’ve had in years,” declared Lord Rupert. He stretched his long legs out before him, and lay looking up somewhat owlishly at his nephew. It seemed to dawn on him that the hour was an unusually early one for the Marquis to be abroad. “What brings you here?” he asked suspiciously. “If you want to borrow money, Vidal, I tell you plainly, I’m cleaned out. Lost a milleleva last night. Never seen anything like the run of the luck. Bank’s won for weeks. Burn it, I believe I’ll give up pharaoh and take to whist.”
Vidal leaned his shoulders against the mantelpiece, and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. “I never pursue forlorn hopes, uncle,” he said sweetly. “I’ve come for the pleasure of seeing you. Can you doubt it?”
His lordship shot out a hand. “Now don’t do that, my boy!” he said. “Damme, when you start talking like Avon I’m off! If you’ve not come to borrow money — ”
“Boot’s on the other leg,” interrupted the Marquis.
Lord Rupert’s jaw dropped. “Ecod, was it you lent me five hundred pounds last month? When did I say I’d pay?”
“Judgment Day, belike,” said his undutiful nephew.
Lord Rupert, shook his head. “Won’t be before, if the luck don’t turn soon,” he agreed gloomily. “If you stand in need of it, my boy, I might ask Avon for a trifle.”
“Lord, I could ask him myself, couldn’t I?” the Marquis said.
“Well, I don’t mind telling you, Vidal, that’s a thing I don’t do till the tipstaffs are after me,” confessed Rupert. “I’m not saying Avon’s mean, but he’s devilish unpleasant over these little affairs.”
The Marquis glanced down at him with a glint in his eyes. “Sir, I am constrained to remind you that his grace has the honour to be my sire.”
“Don’t do it,” roared his uncle. “Look’ee, Vidal, if you’re going to look down your nose, and turn into the living spit of Justin, you’ve one friend the less. I’m done with you.”
“My God, could I survive?” mocked the Marquis. Lord Rupert started to get up, but was thrust back again. “Easy now,” said his nephew. “I’ve done.”
Rupert relaxed again. “Y’know, you’ll have to watch it, Dominic,” he said severely. “One in the family’s too much already. Avon’s got a damned nasty way with him, and if you fall into it you’ll find yourself with a whole pack of enemies.” He stopped and scratched his head. “Not but what you’ve got them already, ha’n’t you?”
Vidal shrugged. “I dare say,” he replied indifferently. “I don’t lose sleep over them.”
“Cool fish, ain’t you?” said Rupert, eyeing him. “Ever let anything trouble you?”
The Marquis yawned. “I’ve never found anything worth troubling over.”
“H’m! Not even women?”
The thin lips curled. “Least of all women.”
Lord Rupert looked solemn. “Won’t do, y’know. Must care about something, Dominic.”
“Sermon, uncle?”
“Advice, my boy. Damn it, there’s something wrong with you, so there is! Never see you but what you’re after some wench or other, and the devil’s in it you don’t care for one of ’em — ” He broke off and clapped a hand to his brow. “That’s got it!” he exclaimed. “Put me in mind of what I had to say to you!”
“Oh?” A faint interest sounded in Vidal’s voice. “Have you found a charmer, Rupert? At your age, too!”
“Fiend seize it! D’you think I’m in my dotage!” said his lordship indignantly. “But that’s not it. This is serious, Dominic. Where’s the burgundy? Take a drop, my boy; it won’t do you a mite of harm.” He picked up the bottle, and poured out two glasses. “Ay, it’s serious this time, I warn you — What do you think of the wine? Not so bad, eh? Forget where I got it.”
“It’s good,” said the Marquis positively, and poured out two more glasses. “You had it from my cellar.”
“Did I so? I’ll say this for you, Vidal, you’ve inherited your father’s palate. It’s the best thing I know of either of you.”
The Marquis bowed. “We thank you. What’s your serious warning?”
“I’m just about to tell you, aren’t I? Don’t keep breaking in, my boy; it’s a devilish bad habit.” He drained his glass, and set it down. “That’s cleared my head a trifle. It’s that yellow-headed chit, Dominic. Filly you had on your arm at Vauxhall Gardens t’other night. Can’t remember her name.”
“Well?” said his lordship.
Rupert reached out a long arm for the bottle. “Avon’s got wind of her.”
“Well?”
Rupert turned his head to look at him. “Don’t keep on saying ‘Well,’ burn you!” he said testily. “I’m telling you Avon’s heard things, and he ain’t pleased.”
“Do you expect me to break out in a sweat?” asked Vidal. “Of course my father knows. It’s a habit with him.”
“And a damned bad habit, too,” said Rupert feelingly. “You know your own business best, or, at any rate, you think you do, but if you take my advice, you’ll go easy with — what in hell’s the girl’s name?”
“You can pass over her name.”
“No, I can’t,” contradicted Rupert. “I can’t go on calling her girl, filly, chit, yaller-head; it throws me out.”
“Just as you please,” yawned Vidal. “You’ll forget it in five minutes. Sophia.”
“That’s it,” nodded my lord. “Never could stand the name since I got entangled with a widow called Sophia. D’you know, boy, that woman well-nigh married me?”
“That wasn’t Sophia,” objected Vidal. “That was Maria Hiscock.”
“No, no, that’s a different one,” said Rupert impatiently. “Sophia was years before your time. And she devilish nearly had me. You be warned, Dominic.”
“You are kindness itself,” answered Vidal politely, “I can only repeat what I seem to have said already several times; I do not at this present contemplate marriage.”
“But ain’t this Sophia a thought different from the others?” asked his lordship curiously. “Daughter of a cit? Lay you odds you stir up trouble there.”
“Not I. If it were the sister now — !” Vidal gave a short laugh. “That’s one of those enemies of mine you spoke of, or I’m much mistaken.”
“Didn’t see the sister, did I? The mother will do what she can to see you tied up in wedlock. ’Pon my soul, if I ever set eyes on a worse harpy!”
“And the sister would send me to the devil,” Vidal said. “I don’t please Miss Prunes and Prisms.”
Lord Rupert cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t you, begad? And does she please you?”
“Good God, no! We don’t deal together. She’d spoil sport if she could.” He showed his teeth in a rather saturnine smile. “Well, if she chooses to cross swords with me, she’ll maybe learn something in the encounter.” He picked up his hat and cane, and strolled to the door. “I’ll leave you, beloved. You’re becoming damned moral, you know.” He went out and the door shut behind him before Lord Rupert, astonished and indignant at the charge, could think of a suitable retort.
Chapter IV
My Lord Carlisle having discovered that his sedate protégé had an incongruous passion for gambling, thought he could do no better for him than to introduce him to the newest of the hells. The young man seemed to have plenty of money at his command, and if he chose to lose it over the dice, it was no business of my lord’s. Of late Mr. Comyn’s face had worn a very serious expression, and my lord had no hesitation in laying this at Miss Marling’s door, that sprightly damsel having been bundled off to Paris in charge of her brother.
“Hang all women!” Carlisle said blithely. “Why, man, there’s not one worth the half of these glum looks of yours.”
