Poor John Eames had been so placed that he had been driven to do his flirting in very bad company, and he was now fully aware that it had been so.  It wanted but two days to his departure for Guestwick Manor, and as he sat breathing a while after the manufacture of a large batch of Sir Raffle’s notes, he made up his mind that he would give Mrs Roper notice before he started, that on his return to London he would be seen no more in Burton Crescent.  He would break his bonds altogether asunder, and if there should be any penalty for such breaking he would pay it in what best manner he might be able.  He acknowledged to himself that he had been behaving badly to Amelia, confessing, indeed, more sin in that respect than he had in truth committed; but this, at any rate, was clear to him, that he must put himself on a proper footing in that quarter before he could venture to speak to Lily Dale.

As he came to a definite conclusion on this subject the little handbell which always stood on Sir Raffle’s table was sounded, and Eames was called into the presence of the great man.  “Ah,” said Sir Raffle, leaning back in his arm-chair, and stretching himself after the great exertions which he had been making—­“Ah, let me see!  You are going out of town the day after to-morrow.”

“Yes, Sir Raffle, the day after to-morrow.”

“Ah! it’s a great annoyance,—­a very great annoyance.  But on such occasions I never think of myself.  I never have done so, and don’t suppose I ever shall.  So you’re going down to my old friend De Guest?”

Eames was always angered when his new patron Sir Raffle talked of his old friendship with the earl, and never gave the Commissioner any encouragement.  “I am going down to Guestwick,” said he.

“Ah! yes; to Guestwick Manor?  I don’t remember that I was ever there.  I dare say I may have been, but one forgets those things.”

“I never heard Lord De Guest speak of it.”

“Oh, dear, no.  Why should his memory be better than mine?  Tell him, will you, how very glad I shall be to renew our old intimacy.  I should think nothing of running down to him for a day or two in the dull time of the year,—­say in September or October.  It’s rather a coincidence our both being interested about you,—­isn’t it?”

“I’ll be sure to tell him.”

“Mind you do.  He’s one of our most thoroughly independent noblemen, and I respect him very highly.  Let me see; didn’t I ring my bell?  What was it I wanted?  I think I rang my bell.”

“You did ring your bell.”

“Ah, yes; I know.  I am going away, and I wanted my—­would you tell Rafferty to bring me—­my boots?” Whereupon Johnny rang the bell—­not the little handbell, but the other bell.  “And I shan’t be here to-morrow,” continued Sir Raffle.  “I’ll thank you to send my letters up to the square; and if they should send down from the Treasury;—­but the Chancellor would write, and in that case you’ll send up his letter at once by a special messenger, of course.”