‘Now, my dear Scrope,’ said Cadurcis, ’now for quiet and philosophy.  The laughter of those infernal women, the rattle of those cursed dice, and the oaths of those ruffians are still ringing in my ears.  Let us compose ourselves, and moralise.’

Accustomed to their master’s habits, who generally turned night into day, the household were all on the alert; a blazing fire greeted them, and his lordship ordered instantly a devil and the burnt Burgundy.

’Sit you down here, my Scrope; that is the seat of honour, and you shall have it.  What is this, a letter? and marked “Urgent,” and in a man’s hand.  It must be read.  Some good fellow nabbed by a bailiff, or planted by his mistress.  Signals of distress!  We must assist our friends.’

The flame of the fire fell upon Lord Cadurcis’ face as he read the letter; he was still standing, while his friend was stretched out in his easy chair, and inwardly congratulating himself on his comfortable prospects.  The countenance of Cadurcis did not change, but he bit his lip, and read the letter twice, and turned it over, but with a careless air; and then he asked what o’clock it was.  The servant informed him, and left the room.

‘Scrope,’ said Lord Cadurcis, quietly, and still standing, ’are you very drunk?’

’My dear fellow, I am as fresh as possible; you will see what justice I shall do to the Burgundy.’

‘"Burgundy to-morrow,” as the Greek proverb saith,’ observed Lord Cadurcis.  ‘Read that.’

His companion had the pleasure of perusing a challenge from Lord Monteagle, couched in no gentle terms, and requesting an immediate meeting.

‘Well, I never heard anything more ridiculous in my life,’ said Lord Scrope.  ‘Does he want satisfaction because you have planted her?’

‘D—­n her!’ said Lord Cadurcis.  ’She has occasioned me a thousand annoyances, and now she has spoilt our supper.  I don’t know, though; he wants to fight quickly, let us fight at once.  I will send him a cartel now, and then we can have our Burgundy.  You will go out with me, of course?  Hyde Park, six o’clock, and short swords.’

Lord Cadurcis accordingly sat down, wrote his letter, and dispatched it by Mr. Spalding to Monteagle House, with peremptory instructions to bring back an answer.  The companions then turned to their devil.

‘This is a bore, Cadurcis,’ said Lord Scrope.

’It is.  I cannot say I am very valorous in a bad cause.  I do not like to fight “upon compulsion,” I confess.  If I had time to screw my courage up, I dare say I should do it very well.  I dare say, for instance, if ever I am publicly executed, I shall die game.’

‘God forbid!’ said Lord Scrope.  ’I say, Cadurcis, I would not drink any Burgundy if I were you.  I shall take a glass of cold water.’

‘Ah! you are only a second, and so you want to cool your valour,’ said Cadurcis.  ‘You have all the fun.’

‘But how came this blow-up?’ inquired Lord Scrope.  ’Letters discovered, eh?  Because I thought you never saw her now?’