“My young friend, I have taken a liking to you.  I like you because you bring to my jaded senses a whiff of the free air of field and forest, as well as a message from one to whom I owe much.  I am sick to death of the inanities of the dandies and fops of the town.  Shall we be friends and comrades, good Tom?  I trow you might do worse than make your Mentor of me—­little though I look the part of the preceptor of Telemachus!”

Tom could scarce believe his ears at this proposition; he blushed and stammered almost as though it were some fair lady wooing him to friendship.  Lord Claud laughed at his embarrassment, and presently, taking up one of the notes beside him, threw it across to Tom, saying: 

“Read that, my young friend; I have a reason just at this moment why I would fain have a trusty friend beside me.  What! thou canst not make sense of the jargon!  Well, it is jargon; in that thou art right, honest Tom.  Men talk in a fashion which fools might gibe at.  But ‘tis the fashion, the fashion, and what would you?  Be i’ the fashion—­or perish!  That is the choice before us.”

“But how can I serve you, my lord?” asked Tom eagerly.

“Hast ever taken part in a duel, good fellow?” asked Lord Claud, with a keen glance at the stalwart youth.

“I have fought many a battle in play and in earnest,” answered Tom, “with my fists, with the sword, and with the quarterstaff.  I have no knowledge of the ways of town fights, such as I heard talk of in the Folly yesterday; but—­”

“But you have a stout arm, an honest heart, and a tongue that will not wag when it is bidden to be silent?  Is that so, honest friend Tom?”

“My lord, I would not speak a word to living soul if you bid me be silent; and I would stand by you to the death!”

“’Tis a sudden liking you have taken for my unworthy self.”

“Prove me, my lord, if it be not as sound as it be sudden.”

Lord Claud stretched out his hand, and Tom’s great fist met it.

“This liking on sight is a strange matter; yet I seldom mistake my man.  Tom, I am going to trust you to act as my second in a little affair I have with another gentleman tomorrow morning, in a certain spot of which I have knowledge.  Another man was to have acted for me—­he has, indeed, made all the arrangements; but, as yon note informs me, he was mixed up in a brawl last evening at the gaming house, and lies abed with a broken arm.  ’Tis not a matter I would have get wind, else there be a dozen men who would serve my turn.  I had rather one silent, steady comrade than a score of chattering jays.  So you shall be my friend, Tom, and see what duelling is like.”

“You are not in danger of death, my lord, or grievous bodily hurt?  Else I fear I should break the rules of the game and dash to your succour!”

“Tush, boy!” answered the other, with a gleam in his eyes, “I have yet to find my match with the rapier; I shall get off without a scratch, you will see.  Whether or not I kill my man will depend upon his behaviour.  I love not slaughter for its own sake, but there be those whose jaunty insolence rouses the devil within me; and then I strike and spare not.”