“Eh; yes; what?” said the earl, “I’m not asleep.”  In answer to which the doctor said that he thought he’d go home, if his lordship would let him order his horse.  But the earl was again fast bound in slumber, and took no further notice of the proposition.

“Perhaps we could get off without waking him,” suggested Eames, in a whisper.

“Eh; what?” said the earl.  So they both resumed their books, and submitted themselves to their martyrdom for a further period of fifteen minutes.  At the expiration of that time, the footman brought in tea.

“Eh, what? tea!” said the earl.  “Yes, we’ll have a little tea.  I’ve heard every word you’ve been saying.”  It was that assertion on the part of the earl which always made Lady Julia so angry.  “You cannot have heard what I have been saying, Theodore, because I have said nothing,” she would reply.  “But I should have heard it if you had,” the earl would rejoin, snappishly.  On the present occasion neither Crofts nor Eames contradicted him, and he took his tea and swallowed it while still three parts asleep.

“If you’ll allow me, my lord, I think I’ll order my horse,” said the doctor.

“Yes; horse—­yes—­” said the earl, nodding.

“But what are you to do, Eames, if I ride?” said the doctor.

“I’ll walk,” whispered Eames, in his very lowest voice.

“What—­what—­what?” said the earl, jumping up on his feet.  “Oh, ah, yes; going away, are you?  I suppose you might as well, as sit here and see me sleeping.  But, doctor—­I didn’t snore, did I?”

“Only occasionally.”

“Not loud, did I?  Come, Eames, did I snore loud?”

“Well, my lord, you did snore rather loud two or three times.”

“Did I?” said the earl, in a voice of great disappointment.  “And yet, do you know, I heard every word you said.”

The small phaeton had been already ordered, and the two young men started back to Guestwick together, a servant from the house riding the doctor’s horse behind them.  “Look here, Eames,” said the earl, as they parted on the steps of the hall door.  “You’re going back to town the day after to-morrow, you say, so I shan’t see you again?”

“No, my lord”, said Johnny.

“Look you here, now.  I shall be up for the Cattle-show before Christmas.  You must dine with me at my hotel, on the twenty-second of December, Pawkins’s, in Jermyn Street; seven o’clock, sharp.  Mind you do not forget, now.  Put it down in your pocket-book when you get home.  Good-bye, doctor; good-bye.  I see I must stick to that mutton chop in the middle of the day.”  And then they drove off.

“He’ll make him his heir for certain,” said Vickers to himself, as he slowly returned to his own quarters.

“You were returning from Allington, I suppose,” said Crofts, “when you came across Lord De Guest and the bull?”

“Yes:  I just walked over to say good-bye to them.”