‘I thought your lordship was a good-humoured man and no flincher,’ Mr. Pomeroy retorted with a sneer.

‘Oh, I vow and protest—­if you put it that way,’ the weakling answered, once more extending his hand, the fingers of which closed lovingly round the bottle, ‘I cannot refuse.  Positively I cannot.’

‘Fifty thousand pounds!’ the tutor said, shrugging his shoulders.

Lord Almeric drew back his hand.

‘Why, she’ll like you the better!’ Pomeroy cried fiercely, as he thrust the bottle to him again.  ’D’you think a woman doesn’t love an easy husband?  And wouldn’t rather have a good fellow than a thread-paper?’

‘Mr. Pomeroy!  Mr. Pomeroy!’ the tutor said.  Such words used of a lord shocked him.

‘A milksop!  A thing of curds and whey!’

‘After marriage, yes,’ the tutor muttered, pitching his voice cleverly in Lord Almeric’s ear, and winking as he leant towards him.  ’But your lordship has a great stake in’t; and to abstain one night—­why, sure, my lord, it’s a small thing to do for a fine woman and a fortune.’

‘Hang me! so it is!’ Lord Almeric answered.  ’You are a good friend to me, Tommy.’  And he flung his glass crashing into the fireplace.  ’No, Pom; you’d bubble me.  You want the pretty charmer yourself.  But I’ll be hanged if you shall have her.  I’ll walk, my boy, I’ll walk, and at six I’ll go to her, and take you too.  And mind you, no tricks, Pom.  Lord!  I know women as well as I know my own head in the glass.  You don’t bite me.’

Pomeroy, with a face like thunder, did not answer; and Lord Almeric, walking a little unsteadily, went to the door, and a moment later became visible through one of the windows.  He stood awhile, his back towards them, now sniffing the evening air, and now, with due regard to his mixed silk coat, taking a pinch of snuff.

Mr. Thomasson, his heart beating, wished he had had the courage to go with him.  But this would have been to break with his host beyond mending; and it was now too late.  He was still seeking a propitiatory phrase with which to break the oppressive silence, when Pomeroy anticipated him.

‘You think yourself vastly clever, Mr. Tutor,’ he growled, his voice hoarse with anger.  ’You think a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, I see.’

‘Ten in the bush,’ Mr. Thomasson answered, affecting an easiness he did not feel.  ‘Ten fives are fifty.’

‘Two in the bush I said, and two in the bush I mean,’ the other retorted, his voice still low.  ‘Take it or leave it,’ he continued, with a muttered oath and a swift side glance at the windows, through which Lord Almeric was still visible, walking slowly to and fro, and often standing.  ’If you want it firm, I’ll put it in black and white.  Ten thousand, or security, the day after we come from church.’

The tutor was silent a moment.  Then, ‘It is too far in the bush,’ he answered in a low voice.  ’I am willing enough to serve you, Mr. Pomeroy.  I assure you, my dear sir, I desire nothing better.  But if—­if his lordship were dismissed, you’d be as far off as ever.  And I should lose my bird in hand.’