“Captain Hyde, you are a traitor.”

“Lord Paget, I deny it.  My loyalty does not compel me to swear by all the follies and crimes of the Government.  My sword is my country’s; but I would not for twenty kings draw it against my own countrymen,”—­then, with a meaning glance at Lord Paget and an emphatic touch of his weapon,—­“except in my own private quarrel.  And if this be treason, let the king look to it.  He will find such treason in every regiment in England.  They say he is going to hire Hessians:  he will need them for his American business, for he has no prerogative to force Englishmen to murder Englishmen.”

“I would advise you to be more prudent, Captain Hyde, if it is in your power.”

“I would advise you to mind your own affairs, Lord Paget.”

“It is said that you married an American.”

“If you are perfectly in your senses, my lord, leave my affairs alone.”

“For my part, I never believed it; and now that Lady Suffolk is a widow, with revenues, possibly you may”—­

“Ah, you are jealous, I perceive!” and Hyde laughed scornfully, and turned on his heel as if to go upstairs.

Lord Paget followed, and laid his hand upon Hyde’s arm.

“Hands off, my lord.  Hands off all that belongs to me.  And I advise you also to cease your impertinent attentions to my cousin, Lady Suffolk.”

“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Hervey, “this is no time for private quarrels; and, Captain, here is a fellow with a note for you.  It is my Lady Capel’s footman, and he says he comes in urgent speed.”

Hyde glanced at the message.  “It is a last command, Mr. Harvey; and I must beg you to say what is proper for my honour to Lord Paget.  Lady Capel is at the death-point, and to her requests I am first bounden.”

It was raining hard when he left the club, a most dreary night in the city.  The coach rattled through the muddy streets, and brought, as it went along, many a bored, heavy countenance to the steaming windows, to watch and to wonder at its pace.  Lady Capel had been death-stricken while at whist, and she had not been removed from the parlour in which she had been playing her last game.  She was stretched upon a sofa in the midst of the deserted tables, yet covered with scattered cards and half-emptied tea-cups.  Only Lady Suffolk and a physician were with her; though the corridor was full of terrified, curious servants, gloating not unkindly over such a bit of sensation in their prosaic lives.

At this hour it was evident that, above everything in the world, the old lady had loved the wild extravagant grandson, whose debts she had paid over and over, and whom she had for years alternately petted and scolded.

“O Dick,” she whispered, “I’ve got to die!  We all have.  I’ve had a good time, Dick.”

“Shall I go for cousin Harold?  I can bring him in an hour.”