Meanwhile the strong-legged nobleman footed it merrily towards Barker’s hotel.  It was a good two miles, and the Duke’s ruddy face shone again under the August sun.  But the race characteristic was strong in him, and he liked to make himself unnecessarily hot; moreover he was really fond of Barker, and now he was going to pitch into him, as he said to himself, so it was indispensable to keep the steam up.  He found his friend as usual the picture of dried-up coolness, so to say.  Mr. Barker never seemed to be warm, but he never seemed to feel cold either, and at this moment, as he sat in a half-lighted room, clad in a variety of delicate gray tints, with a collar that looked like fresh-baked biscuit ware, and a pile of New York papers and letters beside him, he was refreshing to the eye.

“Upon my word, Barker, you always look cool,” said the Duke, as he sat himself down in an arm-chair, and passed his handkerchief round his wrists.  “I would like to know how you do it.”

“To begin with, I do not rush madly about in the sun in the middle of the day.  That may have something to do with it.”

The Duke sneezed loudly, from the mingled dust and sunshine he had been inhaling.

“And then I don’t come into a cold room and catch cold, like you.  Here I sit in seclusion and fan myself with the pages of my newspapers as I turn them over.”

“You have got us all into the deuce of a mess with your confounded coolness,” said the Duke after a pause, during which he had in vain searched all his pockets for his cigar-case.  Barker had watched him, and pushed an open box of Havanas across the table.  But the Duke was determined to be sulky, and took no notice of the attention.  The circular wrinkle slowly furrowed its way round Barker’s mouth, and his under jaw pushed forward.  It always amused him to see sanguine people angry.  They looked so uncomfortable, and “gave themselves away” so recklessly.

“If you won’t smoke, have some beer,” he suggested.  But his Grace fumed the redder.

“I don’t understand how a man of your intelligence, Barker, can go and put people into such awkward positions,” he said.  “I think it is perfectly idiotic.”

“Write me down an ass, by all means,” said Barker calmly; “but please explain what you mean.  I told you not to buy in the Green Swash Mine, and now I suppose you have gone and done it, because I said it might possibly be active some day.”

“I have been to see the Countess this morning,” said the Duke, beating the dust from his thick walking-boot with his cane.

“Ah!” said Barker, without any show of interest.  “Was she at home?”

“I should think so,” said the Duke.  “Very much at home, and Dr. Claudius was there too.”

“Oh! so you are jealous of Claudius, are you?” The ducal wrath rose.

“Barker, you are insufferably ridiculous.”

“Duke, you had much better go to bed,” returned his friend.