“As for you others, that follow your bell-wether there,” and he indicated his grace, whose shoulder was towards him, “this matter ends not here.”
And with that general threat he passed out, and that snug room at White's knew him no more.
Major Gascoigne was gathering up the cards that had been flung down when first the storm arose. Mr. Caryll bent to assist him. And the last voice Lord Rotherby heard as he departed was Mr. Caryll's, and the words it uttered were: “Come, Ned; the deal is with you.”
His lordship swore through his teeth, and went downstairs heavily.
Before Mr. Caryll left White's--which he did at a comparatively early hour, that he might be at home to receive Lord Rotherby's friends--not a man present but had offered him his services in the affair he had upon his hands. Wharton, indeed, was not to be denied for one; and for the other Mr. Caryll desired Gascoigne to do him the honor of representing him.
It was a fine, dry night, and feeling the need for exercise, Mr. Caryll set out to walk the short distance from St. James's Street to his lodging, with a link-boy, preceding him, for only attendant. Arrived home, he was met by Leduc with the information that Sir Richard Everard was awaiting him. He went in, and the next moment he was in the arms of his adoptive father.
Greetings and minor courtesies disposed of, Sir Richard came straight to the affair which he had at heart. “Well? How speeds the matter?”
Mr. Caryll's face became overcast. He sat down, a thought wearily.
“So far as Lord Ostermore is concerned, it speeds--as you would wish it. So far as I am concerned”--he paused and sighed--“I would that it sped not at all, or that I was out of it.”
Sir Richard looked at him with searching eyes. “How?” he asked. “What would you have me understand?”
“That in spite of all that has been said between us, in spite of all the arguments you have employed, and with which once, for a little while, you convinced me, this task is loathsome to me in the last degree. Ostermore is my father, and I can't forget it.”
“And your mother?” Sir Richard's tone was sad, rather than indignant; it spoke of a bitter disappointment, not at the events, but at this man whom he loved with all a father's love.
