Part 15 (1/2)

IN WHICH FISTS ARE CLENCHED; AND OF A SELFISH MAN, WHO WAS AN APOSTLE OF PEACE

Conversation, though in itself a blessed and delightful thing, yet may be sometimes out of place, and wholly impertinent. If wine is a loosener of tongues, surely food is the greatest, pleasantest, and most complete silencer; for what man when hunger gnaws and food is before him--what man, at such a time, will stay to discuss the wonders of the world, of science--or even himself?

Thus our two young travellers, with a very proper respect for the n.o.ble fare before them, paid their homage to it in silence--but a silence that was eloquent none the less. At length, however, each spoke, and each with a sigh.

_The Viscount_. ”The ham, my dear fellow--!”

_Barnabas_. ”The beef, my dear d.i.c.k--!”

_The Viscount and Barnabus_. ”Is beyond words.”

Having said which, they relapsed again into a silence, broken only by the occasional rattle of knife and fork.

_The Viscount_ (hacking at the loaf). ”It's a grand thing to be hungry, my dear fellow.”

_Barnabas_ (glancing over the rim of his tankard). ”When you have the means of satisfying it--yes.”

_The Viscount_ (becoming suddenly abstracted, and turning his piece of bread over and over in his fingers). ”Now regarding--Mistress Clemency, my dear Bev; what do you think of her?”

_Barnabas_ (helping himself to more beef). ”That she is a remarkably handsome girl!”

_The Viscount_ (frowning at his piece of bread). ”Hum! d'you think so?”

_Barnabas_. ”Any man would. I'll trouble you for the mustard, d.i.c.k.”

_The Viscount_. ”Yes; I suppose they would.”

_Barnabas_. ”Some probably do--especially men with an eye for fine women.”

_The Viscount_ (frowning blacker than ever). ”Pray, what mean you by that?”

_Barnabas_. ”Your friend Carnaby undoubtedly does.”

_The Viscount_ (starting). ”Carnaby! Why what the devil put him into your head? Carnaby's never seen her.”

_Barnabas_. ”Indeed, I think it rather more than likely.”

_The Viscount_ (crus.h.i.+ng the bit of bread suddenly in his fist).

”Carnaby! But I tell you he hasn't--he's never been near this place.”

_Barnabas_. ”There you are quite wrong.”

_The Viscount_ (flinging himself back in his chair). ”Beverley, what the devil are you driving at?”

_Barnabas_. ”I mean that he was here this morning.”

_The Viscount_. ”Carnaby? Here? Impossible! What under heaven should make you think so?”

”This,” said Barnabas, and held out a small, crumpled piece of paper.

The Viscount took it, glanced at it, and his knife clattered to the floor.