The Quiet Gentleman

“I can tell you, I think myself fortunate to have secured her affections before you had done so!”

“I cannot flatter myself that she ever thought more of me than of Martin.”

“Oh — Martin!” The Viscount said, his grin vanishing. “If I thought I had cut you out, I should be sorry for it!”

“No, you have cut Martin out.”

“I care nothing for that. It ain’t true, either.”

“I fancy he has been the most fav — prominent — of her suitors,” Gervase said, correcting himself hastily.

“Very likely. They are, as you have said, old playfellows, if he chose to think she cared for him, he must be a bigger coxcomb than I knew!”

Gervase let this pass. He picked up his snuff-box, and opened it, and took a meditative pinch. “Will you go halfway to meet Martin, Lucy?”

“To save you annoyance, yes!”

Gervase smiled at him. “Really, you know, Lucy, we cannot have such a scandal! These little affairs always leak out. By the by, was I to act for you?”

“Exactly what I asked the young fool! He told me Warboys would be happy to act for me! Man I’ve only met three times in my life!”

Gervase burst out laughing. “Warboys! I wish he may come to offer his services to you!”

But at that very moment, Mr. Warboys was most strenuously resisting all efforts put forward to make him do this very thing. “No, dash it, Martin!” he said. “Don’t mind acting for you — not but what I think you’re making a cake of yourself, mind! — but I’m damned if I’ll act for a fellow I don’t know!”

“You do know him! He was at our ball!”

“What’s that to say to anything? Seen him at Whissenhurst a couple of times too, but that don’t mean I know him!”

“What does it signify? The circumstances are peculiar, and — ”

“Yes, and that’s another thing!” said Mr. Warboys. “No wish to offend you, dear old boy — and it ain’t a bit of use trying to call me out if you are offended! — but the circumstances are too dashed peculiar! Mind, now, I’m not sure, because I haven’t been out myself, but I don’t think this is at all the thing. I’ll ask my father: knows everything, my father!”

“You will not! Do you think I want the whole world to know of this?”

“Precious soon will know of it,” commented the sapient Mr. Warboys. “All over the countryside within twenty-four hours! A nice cry-out there will be! You take a damper, dear boy! much the best thing to do!”

“I tell you the fellow knocked me down, and has accepted my challenge!”

“You told me it wasn’t till you gave him a facer that he did accept your challenge. Good sort of a man, Ulverston,” said Mr. Warboys thoughtfully. “Withdraw the challenge. Nothing else to be done.”

“No?” said Martin, through his shut teeth. “I’ll show you what else is to be done!”

“Won’t show me,”said Mr. Warboys, in a tone of strong resolution. “The more I think about it the more I think it ain’t the kind of affair I want to be mixed up with. Can’t call a fellow out when he’s staying in your house.”

“St. Erth’s house, not mine!”

“Comes to the same thing. Very important to be nice in all points of honour. Another thing! no business to have challenged him at all. Quite the thing, when he knocked you over: nothing to say against that! When you hit him, his business to ask for satisfaction, not yours. Damme, you’ve made a ramshackle business of it, Martin!”

“I have, have I? Do you think I’ll withdraw because you tell me to?” demanded Martin furiously.

“No,” said Mr. Warboys mournfully. “Just thought of that. Ought to have told you to go on with it. Never knew such a fellow for going against everyone! Often crossed my mind you wouldn’t have run mad after Miss Bolderwood if you hadn’t seen the rest of us hanging round her. Nothing would do for you but to carry her off just to spite us!”

“By God, Barny, if you weren’t a friend of mine — !” Martin said, his fists clenching.

“If I weren’t a friend of yours, wouldn’t have dared to say it,” responded Mr. Warboys frankly. “Quite true, though. Dash it, Ulverston did the right thing when he gave you that leveller! Sorry I didn’t see it. Might have tried to do it myself, if I’d seen you frightening that poor little angel! Don’t say I’d have succeeded because I never was up to your weight, but there it is: daresay I should have been carried away.”

“You would!” retorted Martin, with grim humour.

Mr. Warboys, grappling with deep thoughts, paid no heed to this, but pronounced, after a moment: “Tell you what, Martin! Shouldn’t be surprised if there was more to it than we know. Occurred to me the other evening: seems devilish taken with Ulverston, don’t she? No sense in putting a bullet into the fellow: might easily give her a distaste for you, and then where are you?”

This eminently reasonable point of view found no favour. Martin said roughly: “I didn’t come here to listen to you prosing like the saphead you are! Will you, or will you not, act for Ulverston?”

“No,” said Mr. Warboys. He added scrupulously: “That is, not if he don’t ask me to. If he does — ask my father!”

“And you call yourself a friend of mine!” Martin said bitterly.