sovereigns the other night to pay our losings to Dawkins? Didn't
you swear, on your honor as a gentleman, to give me half of all
that might be won in this affair?"

"Agreed, sir," says Deuceace; "agreed."

"Well, sir, and now what have you to say?"

"Why, THAT I DON'T INTEND TO KEEP MY PROMISE! You infernal fool
and ninny! do you suppose I was laboring for YOU? Do you fancy I
was going to the expense of giving a dinner to that jackass yonder,
that you should profit by it? Get away, sir! Leave the room, sir!
Or, stop--here--I will give you four hundred pounds--your own note
of hand, sir, for that sum, if you will consent to forget all that
has passed between us, and that you have never known Mr. Algernon
Deuceace."

I've seen pipple angery before now, but never any like Blewitt. He
stormed, groaned, belloed, swoar! At last, he fairly began
blubbring; now cussing and nashing his teeth, now praying dear Mr.
Deuceace to grant him mercy.

At last, master flung open the door (heaven bless us! it's well I
didn't tumble hed over eels into the room!), and said, "Charles,
show the gentleman down stairs!" My master looked at him quite
steddy. Blewitt slunk down, as misrabble as any man I ever see.
As for Dawkins, heaven knows where he was!

. . . . . .