“That’s what I’ve come about,” blurted out Mr. Ramsay, the moment there was a pause.  “His name isn’t Drummond at all:  it is Plummer.  And he isn’t fit to be a guest in any decent house, and I’ve come to tell you so and have you give him the sack and put him to the door at once.  Excuse me meddling, but you have been very kind to me and received me most hospitably, and I am not going to see you taken in by a rascal and a blackguard.”

Mr. Brown was shocked, but did not show it.  He prided himself on being very logical and dispassionate and judicial, and was privately convinced that he would have greatly adorned the legal profession if Fate had been kinder.  Besides, Mr. Drummond was his guest and there by his invitation, which to his mind was strong presumptive proof that Mr. Ramsay’s charges were without foundation.  “Grave accusations these, Mr. Ramsay,—­very grave accusations.  I trust you are making them upon some better grounds than mere personal prejudice or idle rumor, if you expect me to believe them.  Not that I mean any discourtesy to you, sir, in saying this,” he said, in his roundest, most impressive tones.

“What do you mean?  The fellow was sent to Coventry by his regiment and forced to resign, his father has cut him off with a shillin’, he can’t show his face in London, and he has been kicked out of his club for keepin’ too many aces up his sleeve.  I should think that was grounds enough for an accusation.  Do you suppose I go about inventin’ lies to take away other people’s characters?” said Mr. Ramsay excitedly.

“Do not exaggerate.  Be calm; be reasonable,” said Mr. Brown.  “Observe, I do not accuse you of wilful misrepresentation, but of misapprehension, perhaps of prejudice.  There is a difference.  Note it, and do not take offence, my young friend, too readily.”

“I am not offended, but what I say is true, and I hope you will act upon it, so that Miss Brown shall not go out ridin’ round the country with that—­” began Mr. Ramsay, only to be interrupted by—­

“No violence; no excitement.  Let us look at the thing rationally,” from Mr. Brown.  “Mr. Drummond is my guest,—­my guest, remember; introduced to me by one of the first men in New York; received everywhere.  You are both strangers to me.  This is a matter of purely individual testimony,” Mr. Brown went on, feeling that he was growing exquisitely subtile, and clothing himself in imaginary ermine as he spoke.  “He may tell me that you are a rascal.  In that event, how am I to know who is the honest man and who the villain?  Shall I believe you, or shall I believe him, in the absence of documentary evidence and disinterested statement?  As my guest, he has, if anything, the prior claim to consideration; though I am far from saying that whatever views you may advance will not have equal weight with me,—­as views, mark you.”

“You can believe who you please and what you please,” said Mr. Ramsay; “but remember that I have given you warnin’.  He may be your guest, but he is my cousin, and I should think that I ought to know what I am talkin’ about.  There is no necessity for me stayin’ any longer.”