’Here, come, no, by Jove, you, Mr. Woodsir! won’t do, not a bit! can’t let you go,’ cried Abrane, as he puffed.  ’What! cut and run and leave us, post winnings—­bankers—­knock your luck on the head!  What a fellow!  Can’t let you.  Countess never forgive us.  You promised—­swore it—­play for her.  Struck all aheap to hear of your play!  You’ve got the trick.  Her purse for you in my pocket.  Never a fellow played like you.  Cool as a cook over a-gridiron!  Comme un phare!  St. Ombre says—­that Frenchman.  You astonished the Frenchman!  And now cut and run?  Can’t allow it.  Honour of the country at stake.’

‘Hands off!’ Woodseer bellowed, feeling himself a leaky vessel in dock, his infirmities in danger of exposure.  ’If you pull!—­what the deuce do you want?  Stop!’

‘Out you come,’ said the giant, and laughed at the fun to his friends, who were entirely harmonious when not violently dissenting, as is the way with Night’s rollickers before their beds have reconciled them to the day-beams.

Woodseer would have had to come and was coming; he happened to say:  ‘Don’t knock my pipe out of my mouth,’ and touched a chord in the giant.

‘All—­right; smoke your pipe,’ was answered to his remonstrance.

During the amnesty, Fleetwood inquired:  ‘Where are you going?’

‘Far a drive,—­to be sure.  Don’t you see!’

‘You’ll return?’

‘I intend to return.’

‘He’s beastly excited,’ quoth Abrane.

Fleetwood silenced him, though indeed Woodseer appeared suspiciously restive.

’Step down and have a talk with me before you start.  You’re not to go yet.’

‘I must.  I’m in a hurry.’

’What ‘s the hurry?’

‘I want to smoke and think.’

’Takes a carriage on the top of the morning to smoke and think!  Hark at that!’ Abrane sang out.  ’Oh, come along quietly, you fellow, there’s a good fellow!  It concerns us all, every man Jack; we’re all bound up in your fortunes.  Fellow with luck like yours can’t pretend to behave independently.  Out of reason!’

‘Do you give me your word you return?’ said Fleetwood.

Woodseer replied:  ’Very well, I do; there, I give my word.  Hang it! now I know what they mean by “anything for a quiet life.”  Just a shake brings us down on that cane-bottomed chair!’

‘You return to-day?’

‘To-day, yes, yes.’

Fleetwood signified the captive’s release; and Abrane immediately suggested: 

‘Pop old Chummy in beside the fellow to mount guard.’

Potts was hustled and precipitated into the carriage by the pair, with whom he partook this last glimmer of their night’s humorous extravagances, for he was an easy creature.  The carriage drove off.

‘Keep him company!’ they shouted.

‘Escort him back!’ said he, nodding.

He remarked to Woodseer:  ‘With your permission,’ concerning the seat he took, and that ‘a draught of morning air would do him good.’  Then he laughed politely, exchanged wavy distant farewells with his comrades, touched a breast-pocket for his case of cigars, pulled forth one, obtained ‘the loan of a light,’ blew clouds and fell into the anticipated composure, quite understanding the case and his office.