“No, she did not come to see me, nor had I anything to do with her visit to the Old Swan.  She was eating dinner with Nell Gwynn, and—­”

“Was she the duchess, of whom Betty told me?” I asked, interrupting him.

“Yes, the Duchess of Hearts, as I hear she has been dubbed at court,” he answered, with an angry gleam in his eyes and a sharp note of contempt in his voice.

“And was it for her you fought?” I asked, feeling as though I was reading a page from a story-book.  “Betty told me about it, but you tell me, please?”

“Betty usually exhausts a subject, so there is no need to tell you about the fight,” he said.  “It was really a small affair, and my wounds are nothing to speak of.  I suffered more from other causes.”

“Yes, yes, George.  Tell me all about it,” I returned, drawing my chair nearer to him.  “I fear a mistake has been made, a misunderstanding of some sort, though I cannot imagine even the sort.  Now, tell me.”

“I came up from Sheerness on a Dutch boat and landed at Deptford yesterday morning,” he began hesitatingly.  “After sending a messenger on business in which I was deeply interested, I came to the Old Swan to get a bite to eat and to find a bed.  While waiting in the tap-room for my dinner, I recognized Nelly’s laugh and went into the private dining room to see her, hoping that she might drop a word concerning another person.  I should not have gone to see her, for while in France I had heard from De Grammont, with whom I have had some correspondence, that I was out of favor with the king and that Crofts had been trying to fix on me the guilt of a crime which he himself committed.

“Grammont wrote me, also, of the triumphs of Mistress Jennings, the new beauty of the court, but I paid little heed to the gossip, though I confess I was thrown into great fear by what he wrote about her.  I knew also that the king would help Crofts make trouble for me, so I felt it was just as well that my presence in London should remain unknown.  But I did go in to see Nelly, and, much to my surprise, found the other person.”

It was to my surprise, also, but I said only:  “Yes, yes, George.  Your story is growing interesting.  Proceed!”

After a moment, he continued:  “Nelly offered to present me to the other person, whom she designated as ‘the king’s new favorite.’  Naturally I said that I already had the honor of knowing Mistress Jennings.  Then your cousin looked up to me and remarked calmly that I was mistaken; that I did not have the honor of knowing her, nor she the humiliation of knowing me.  So I made my bow, went back to the taproom, and in a moment the fight occurred, of which you already know.”

“But what has all this to do with your grievance against me?” I asked.

He turned his face away from me, looked out the window for a minute or two, and answered:  “These are my causes of offence, Baron Clyde.  You have brought your cousin, your own flesh and blood, to Whitehall to sell her to the king, and—­”