The time, however, passed on, and half-past eight, three quarters, and at last nine o’clock, without his appearing; when, just as Curzon had resolved upon our leaving the ground, a hack jaunting-car was seen driving at full speed along the road near us.  It came nearer and at length drew up; two men leaped off and came towards us; one of whom, as he came forward, took off his hat politely, and introduced himself as Mr. O’Gorman, the fighting friend of Mark Anthony.

“It’s a mighty unpleasant business I’m come upon, gentlemen,” said he, “Mr. Fitzpatrick has been unavoidedly prevented from having the happiness to meet you this morning—­”

“Then you can’t expect us, sir, to dance attendance upon him here to-morrow,” said Curzon, interrupting.

“By no manner of means,” replied the other, placidly; “for it would be equally inconvenient for him to be here then.  But I have only to say, maybe you’d have the kindness to waive all etiquette, and let me stand in his place.”

“Certainly and decidedly not,” said Curzon.  “Waive etiquette!—­why, sir, we have no quarrel with you; never saw you before.”

“Well, now, isn’t this hard?” said Mr. O’Gorman, addressing his friend, who stood by with a pistol-case under his arm; “but I told Mark that I was sure they’d be standing upon punctilio, for they were English.  Well, sir,” said he, turning towards Curzon, “there’s but one way to arrange it now, that I see.  Mr. Fitzpatrick, you must know, was arrested this morning for a trifle of L140.  If you or your friend there, will join us in the bail we can get him out, and he’ll fight you in the morning to your satisfaction.”

When the astonishment this proposal had created subsided, we assured Mr. O’Gorman that we were noways disposed to pay such a price for our amusement—­a fact that seemed considerably to surprise both him and his friend—­and adding, that to Mr. Fitzpatrick personally, we should feel bound to hold ourselves pledged at a future period, we left the ground, Curzon laughing heartily at the original expedient thus suggested, and I inwardly pronounced a most glowing eulogy on the law of imprisonment for debt.

Before Mr. Fitzpatrick obtained the benefit of the act, we were ordered abroad, and I have never since heard of him.

CHAPTER XL.

THE TWO LETTERS.

From the digression of the last chapter I was recalled by the sight of the two letters which lay during my reverie unopened before me.  I first broke the seal of Lady Callonby’s epistle, which ran thus: 

     “Munich, La Croix Blanche,