Lord Tulliwuddle bowed politely and took the empty chair; but it was evident that his attention could not concentrate itself upon sublunary matters till the shirt-front had been critically inspected and appreciatively praised by his host.  Indeed, it was quite clear that Essington had not exaggerated his regard for himself.  This admiration was perhaps the most pleasing feature to be noted on a brief acquaintance with his lordship.  He was obviously intended neither for a strong man of action nor a great man of thought.  A tolerable appearance and considerable amiability he might no doubt claim; but unfortunately the effort to retain his eye-glass had apparently the effect of forcing his mouth chronically open, which somewhat marred his appearance; while his natural good-humor lapsed too frequently into the lamentations of an idle man that Providence neglected him or that his creditors were too attentive.

It happens, however, that it is rather his circumstances than his person which concern this history.  And, briefly, these were something in this sort.  Born a poor relation and guided by no strong hand, he had gradually seen himself, as Reverend uncles and Right Honorable cousins died of, approach nearer and nearer to the ancient barony of Tulliwuddle (created 1475 in the peerage of Scotland), until this year he had actually succeeded to it.  But after his first delight in this piece of good fortune had subsided he began to realize in himself two notable deficiencies very clearly, the lack of money, and more vaguely, the want of any preparation for filling the shoes of a stately courtier and famous Highland chieftain.  He would often, and with considerable feeling, declare that any ordinary peer he could easily have become, but that being old Tulliwuddle’s heir, by Gad! he didn’t half like the job.

At present he was being tolerated or befriended by a small circle of acquaintances, and rapidly becoming a familiar figure to three or four tailors and half a dozen door-keepers at the stage entrances to divers Metropolitan theatres.  In the circle of acquaintances, the humorous sagacity of Essington struck him as the most astonishing thing he had ever known.  He felt, in fact, much like a village youth watching his first conjuring performance, and while the whim lasted (a period which Essington put down as probably six weeks) he would have gone the length of paying a bill or ordering a tie on his recommendation alone.

To-night the distinguished appearance and genial conversation of Essington’s friend impressed him more than ever with the advantages of knowing so remarkable a personage.  A second bottle succeeded the first, and a third the second, the cordiality of the dinner growing all the while, till at last his lordship had laid aside the last traces of his national suspicion of even the most charming strangers.

“I say, Essington,” he said, “I had meant to tell you about a devilish delicate dilemma I’m in.  I want your advice.”