Alas! poor Mr. Fishwick understood too; and his face, as the truth dawned on him, was one of the most comical sights ever seen.  A nervous, sanguine man, the attorney had been immensely elated by the honour paid to him; he had thought his cause won and his fortune made.  The downfall was proportionate:  in a second his pomp and importance were gone, and he stood before them timidly rubbing one hand on another.  Yet even in the ridiculous position in which the mistake placed him—­in the wrong and with all his heroics wasted—­he retained a sort of manliness.  ’Dear me, dear me,’ he said, his jaw fallen, ’I—­Your most humble servant, sir!  I offer a thousand apologies for the intrusion!  But having business with his lordship, and receiving the message,’ he continued in a tone of pathetic regret, ’it was natural I should think it was intended for me.  I can say no more than that I humbly crave pardon for intruding on you, honourable gentlemen, over your wine.’

Dr. Addington bowed stiffly; he was not the man to forgive a liberty.  But Sir George had a kindly impulse.  In spite of himself, he could not refrain from liking the little man who so strangely haunted his steps.  There was a spare glass on the table.  He pushed it and the bottle towards Mr. Fishwick.

‘There is no harm done,’ he said kindly.  ’A glass of wine with you, sir.’

Mr. Fishwick in his surprise and nervousness, dropped his hat, picked it up, and dropped it again; finally he let it lie while he filled his glass.  His hand shook; he was unaccountably agitated.  But he managed to acquit himself fairly, and with a ’Greatly honoured, Sir George.  Good-night, gentlemen,’ he disappeared.

‘What is his business with Lord Chatham?’ Dr. Addington asked rather coldly.  It was plain that he did not approve of Sir George’s condescension.

‘I have no notion,’ Soane answered, yawning.  ’But he has got a very pretty girl with him.  Whether she is laying traps for Dunborough—­’

‘The viscountess’s son?’

‘Just so—­I cannot say.  But that is the old harridan’s account of it.’

‘Is she here too?’

’Lord, yes; and they had no end of a quarrel downstairs.  There is a story about the girl and Dunborough.  I’ll tell it you some time.’

‘I began to think—­he was here on your business,’ said the doctor.

‘He?  Oh, no,’ Sir George answered without suspicion, and turned to look for his candlestick.  ’I suppose that he is in the case I am in—­wants something and comes to the fountain of honour to get it.’

And bidding the other good-night, he went to bed; not to sleep, but to lie awake and reckon and calculate, and add a charge here to interest there, and set both against income, and find nothing remain.