“Squints!” exclaimed Mr. Fox, “now what the devil can the hound want?”

“To pull your nose for sending him to market,” my Lord suggested.

Fox laughed coolly.

“Lay you twenty he doesn’t, Jack,” he said.

His Grace plainly had some business with us, and I hoped he was coming to force the fighting.  The pieces had ceased to rattle on the round mahogany table, and every head in the room seemed turned our way, for the Covent Garden story was well known.  Chartersea laid his hand on the back of our fourth chair, greeted us with some ceremony, and said something which, under the circumstances, was almost unheard of in that day:  “If you stand in need of one, gentlemen, I should deem it an honour.”

The situation had in it enough spice for all of us.  We welcomed him with alacrity.  The cards were cut, and it fell to his Grace to deal, which he did very prettily, despite his heavy hands.  He drew Charles Fox, and they won steadily.  The conversation between deals was anywhere; on the virtue of Morello cherries for the gout, to which his Grace was already subject; on Mr. Fox’s Ariel, and why he had not carried Sandwich’s cup at Newmarket; on the advisability of putting three-year-olds on the track; in short, on a dozen small topics of the kind.  At length, when Comyn and I had lost some fifty pounds between us, Chartersea threw down the cards.

“My coach waits to-night, gentlemen,” said he, with some sort of an accent that did not escape us.  “It would give me the greatest pleasure and you will sup with me in Hanover Square.”

CHAPTER XXXV

IN WHICH MY LORD BALTIMORE APPEARS

His Grace’s offer was accepted with a readiness he could scarce have expected, and we all left the room in the midst of a buzz of comment.  We knew well that the matter was not so haphazard as it appeared, and on the way to Hanover Square Comyn more than once stepped on my toe, and I answered the pressure.  Our coats and canes were taken by the duke’s lackeys when we arrived.  We were shown over the house.  Until now —­so his Grace informed us—­it had not been changed since the time of the fourth duke, who, as we doubtless knew, had been an ardent supporter of the Hanoverian succession.  The rooms were high-panelled and furnished in the German style, as was the fashion when the Square was built.  But some were stripped and littered with scaffolding and plaster, new and costly marble mantels were replacing the wood, and an Italian of some renown was decorating the ceilings.  His Grace appeared to be at some pains that the significance of these improvements should not be lost upon us; was constantly appealing to Mr. Fox’s taste on this or that feature.  But those fishy eyes of his were so alert that we had not even opportunity to wink.  It was wholly patent, in brief, that the Duke of Chartersea meant to be married, and had brought Charles and Comyn hither with a purpose.  For me he would have put himself out not an inch had he not understood that my support came from those quarters.