‘Oh, my Lord.  I did not know that it was you.’

’You hardly would.  I am quite a stranger here.  Silverbridge and I came up from the House together, and he has been hospitable enough to give me a dinner.  I will tell you an odd thing for a London man, Mr Tregear.  I have not dined at a London club for fifteen years before this.’

‘I hope you like it, sir,’ said Silverbridge.

’Very much indeed.  Good-evening, Mr Tregear.  I suppose you have to go to dinner now.’

Then they went into one of the rooms upstairs to have coffee, the son declining to go into the smoking-room, and assuring his father that he did not in the least care about a cigar after dinner.  ’You would be smothered, sir.’  The Duke did as he was bidden and went upstairs.  There was in truth a strong reason for avoiding the publicity of the smoking-room.  When bringing his father to the club he had thought nothing about Tregear but he had thought about Tifto.  As he entered he had seen Tifto at a table dining alone, and had bobbed his head at him.  Then he had taken the Duke to the further end of the room, and had trusted that fear would keep the major in his place.  Fear had kept the Major in his place.  When the Major learned who the stranger was, he had become silent and reserved.  Before the father and son had finished their dinner, Tifto had gone to his cigar; and so the danger was over.

‘By George, there’s Silverbridge has got his governor to dinner,’ said Tifto, standing in the middle of the room, and looking round as though he were announcing some confusion of the heavens and earth.

‘Why shouldn’t Silverbridge have his father to dine with him?’ asked Mr Lupton.

’I believe I know Silverbridge as well as any man, and by George it is the very last thing of the kind that I should have expected.  There have been no end of quarrels.’

‘There has been no quarrel at all,’ said Tregear, who had just then entered the room.  ’Nothing on earth would make Silverbridge quarrel with his father, and I think it would break the Duke’s heart to quarrel with his son.’  Tifto endeavoured to argue the matter out, but Tregear having made the assertion on behalf of his friend would not allow himself to be enticed into further speech.  Nevertheless there was a good deal said by others during which the Major drank two glasses of whisky-and-water.  In the dining-room he had been struck with awe by the Duke’s presence, and had certainly no idea of presenting himself personally to the great man.  But Bacchus lent him aid, and when the discussion was over and the whisky had been swallowed, it occurred to him that he would go upstairs and ask to be introduced.

In the meantime the Duke and his son were seated in close conversation on one of the upstairs sofas.  It was a rule at the Beargarden that men might smoke all over the house except in the dining-room;—­but there was one small chamber called the library, in which the practice was not often followed.  The room was generally deserted, and at this moment the father and son were the only occupants.  ‘A club,’ said the Duke, as he sipped his coffee, ’is a comfortable and economical residence.  A man gets what he wants well-served, and gets it cheap.  But it has its drawbacks.’