“Eh?  Who are you?  Oh!” said Algernon, half mad with rage.  “Excuse me;” and he walked faster.

“Fifty times over,” Sedgett responded cheerfully.  “I’d pace you for a match up and down this place if you liked.  Ain’t the horses a spectacle?  I’d rather be heer than there at they Races.  As for the ladies, I’ll tell you what:  ladies or no ladies, give my young woman time for her hair to grow; and her colour to come, by George! if she wouldn’t shine against e’er a one—­smite me stone blind, if she wouldn’t!  So she shall!  Australia’ll see.  I owe you my thanks for interdoocin’ me, and never fear my not remembering.”

Where there was a crowd, Algernon could elude his persecutor by threading his way rapidly; but the open spaces condemned him to merciless exposure, and he flew before eyes that his imagination exaggerated to a stretch of supernatural astonishment.  The tips of his fingers, the roots of his hair, pricked with vexation, and still, manoeuvre as he might, Sedgett followed him.

“Call at my chambers,” he said sternly.

“You’re never at home, sir.”

“Call to-morrow morning, at ten.”

“And see a great big black door, and kick at it till my toe comes through my boot.  Thank ye.”

“I tell you, I won’t have you annoying me in public; once for all.”

“Why, sir; I thought we parted friends, last time.  Didn’t you shake my hand, now, didn’t you shake my hand, sir?  I ask you, whether you shook my hand, or whether you didn’t?  A plain answer.  We had a bit of a scrimmage, coming home.  I admit we had; but shaking hands, means ’friends again we are.’  I know you’re a gentleman, and a man like me shouldn’t be so bold as fur to strike his betters.  Only, don’t you see, sir, Full-o’-Beer’s a hasty chap, and up in a minute; and he’s sorry for it after.”

Algernon conceived a brilliant notion.  Drawing five shillings from his pocket, he held them over to Sedgett, and told him to drive down to his chambers, and await his coming.  Sedgett took the money; but it was five shillings lost.  He made no exhibition of receiving orders, and it was impossible to address him imperiously without provoking observations of an animated kind from the elegant groups parading and sitting.

Young Harry Latters caught Algernon’s eye; never was youth more joyfully greeted.  Harry spoke of the Friday’s race, and the defection of the horse Tenpenny Nail.  A man passed with a nod and “How d’ ye do?” for which he received in reply a cool stare.

“Who’s that?” Algernon asked.

“The son of a high dignitary,” said Harry.

“You cut him.”

“I can do the thing, you see, when it’s a public duty.”

“What’s the matter with him?”

“Merely a black-leg, a grec, a cheat, swindler, or whatever name you like,” said Harry.  “We none of us nod to the professionals in this line; and I won’t exchange salutes with an amateur.  I’m peculiar.  He chose to be absent on the right day last year; so from that date; I consider him absent in toto; ’none of your rrrrr—­m reckonings, let’s have the rrrrr—­m toto;’—­you remember Suckling’s story of the Yankee fellow?  Bye-bye; shall see you the day after to-morrow.  You dine with me and Suckling at the club.”