“No: nothing like that.” Mr. Hethersett took a fortifying sip of brandy. “Awkward sort of business. Been teasing me all day.”
“It sounds to me like a dashed havey-cavey business!” said Dysart, eyeing him in astonishment.
“No, it ain’t exactly that, though I don’t mind telling you I’d as lief not break it to you,” said Mr. Hethersett, who was finding his self-imposed task even more difficult to accomplish than he had foreseen.
“Good God, you ain’t going to tell me you’ve been set on to tell me my father’s slipped his wind?” exclaimed Dysart, sitting up with a jerk.
“No, of course I haven’t!” said Mr. Hethersett, irritated. “Is it likely that I’d be the man to break that sort of news to you?”
“No, but if it comes to that you ain’t the man to invite me at half-past four in the morning either!” retorted Dysart. “It’s no use bamming me you’ve got a sudden fancy for my company, for I know dashed well you haven’t.”
“Never said anything of the sort. No objection to your company, mind, but it wasn’t that I wanted. The thing is, it’s a deuced delicate matter!”
“Well, I can’t guess what the devil it can be, but there’s no need to skirt around it!” said Dysart encouragingly. “In fact, I’d lief you cut line: I can stand a knock or two!”
Mr. Hethersett tossed off the rest of the brandy in his glass. “Concerns your sister,” he said.
The Viscount stared at him. “Concerns my sister?” he repeated. “What the devil—?”
“Didn’t think you’d like it,” said Mr. Hethersett, with a gloomy satisfaction in the accuracy of his prognostication. “Don’t like it myself. You know George Burnley?”
“What?” thundered the Viscount, setting his own glass down with such violence that he nearly broke it.
Mr. Hethersett winced, and protested. “No need to bellow at me!”
“No need to—What has that ginger-hackled court-card to do with my sister?” demanded the Viscount, a very dangerous light in his eyes.
“Hasn’t anything to do with her,” replied Mr. Hethersett, faintly surprised. “What’s more, though I don’t say he ain’t ginger-hackled, he ain’t a court-card. Friend of mine. Dashed if I know why you should get into a miff just because you’re asked if you’re acquainted with him!”
“You said it concerned my sister Cardross!”
“Didn’t say anything of the kind. At least, not about poor George. And if you weren’t the biggest gudgeon on the town you’d know I wouldn’t have said a word about it, if he had been concerned with her!” he added severely.
“Well, what has Burnley to do with it?” asked the Viscount mollified, but impatient.
“Gave him a look-in this morning. He lives in Clarges Street.”
“Yes, I know he does, and if that’s all you wanted to tell me—”
“Got a house opposite Jew King’s,” said Mr. Hethersett, contemplating his elegant snuff-box with rapt attention.
There was a momentary silence. “Go on!” said Dysart grimly.
Mr. Hethersett glanced up at him. “Well, that’s it,” he said apologetically. “Saw Lady Cardross. Recognized her bonnet. Heavily veiled—no need to fear George knew her!”
“Are you saying she went into Jew King’s place?”
“No. Meant to, but I stopped her.”
“I’m much obliged to you, then! Bird-witted little fool!” said Dysart savagely.
“Don’t have to be obliged to me: got a great regard for her! Besides, related to Cardross, you know! Dashed well had to stop her. Seemed to be all in a pucker. Very anxious I shouldn’t blab to Cardross. Well, stands to reason I shouldn’t!”
“No, my God! What did she tell you?”
“Just said she wanted a temporary loan. Something she was devilish anxious Cardross shouldn’t discover. Told her I wouldn’t say a word to Giles if she promised to give up the notion of borrowing from a cent-per-cent. So she did, but I ain’t easy. Made up my mind the best thing to do was to tell you, Dysart.”
The Viscount nodded, and got up. “Much obliged to you!” he said again. “I’ll give her pepper for this. I told her that was no way to raise the recruits—damme, I forbade her to, now I come to think of it! Promised her I’d see all tidy. I might have done it, too, if she hadn’t taken a distempered freak into her head. And why she should be cast into high fidgets only because she’s a trifle scorched I’m damned if I know. Anyone would think Cardross was going to discover it tomorrow! Unless I miss my tip, there’s no reason why he should ever know a thing about it, but it’s no use expecting me to raise the wind in the twinkling of an eye. But that’s women all over!”
He turned to pick up his great-coat. Mr. Hethersett watched him shrug himself into it. He was strongly tempted to let him go, but although he was not very hopeful of being able to prevail upon him to approach Cardross, he felt that it behoved him to make the attempt.
“Been thinking about it all day,” he said. “Seems to me Cardross ought to know of it.”
“Well, he ain’t going to,” replied Dysart shortly.
“Wouldn’t do if he were to get wind of it,” insisted Mr. Hethersett. “Wouldn’t like it, if he found her ladyship had been hoaxing him.”
“Now, don’t you start fretting and fuming!” begged Dysart. “I told my sister I’d settle it, and so I will!”
“No business of mine, of course, but how?” asked Mr. Hethersett.
“By hedge or by stile,” replied Dysart flippantly.
“It won’t fadge. All to pieces yourself. Daresay you’re thinking of a run of luck, but it ain’t when one’s run off one’s legs that one gets the luck: more likely to be physicked! Ever noticed that it’s pretty near always the best-breeched coves who win? Seems to me there’s only one way you can help Lady Cardross.”
Dysart looked at him with a slight frown creasing his brow. “Well, what is it?”
Mr. Hethersett took snuff with deliberation. “Best way out of the fix is for her to tell Cardross the whole. Tried to get her to do it, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Seemed to be in the deuce of a quake. No use telling her not the slightest need. Got the notion fixed in her head. I can’t tell him. The thing is for you to do it.”
“I tell Cardross my sister’s swallowed a spider, and is trying to break shins with Jew King?” gasped the Viscount. “Well, I thought you must be a trifle disguised when you asked me to come home with you, but I can see now that you’re either ape-drunk, or touched in your upper works!”
“No, I ain’t,” replied Mr. Hethersett stolidly. “I know it’s a dashed difficult thing to do: in fact, it needs a devilish good bottom, but they say you’ve got that.”
“Bottom! A damned whiddling disposition is all I’d need, and I’ll have you know that’s something I’ve not got!” Dysart shot at him. “Cry rope on my own sister? By God, if I hadn’t been drinking your brandy, damned if I wouldn’t tip you a settler, Hethersett!”
Mr. Hethersett was thrown into disorder. It was not that he particularly feared the Viscount’s fists, both of which were suggestively clenched; but that, in face of that fiery young man’s quick, wrath, the horrid suspicion assailed him that he had been doing him an injustice. This was a breach of ton the very thought of which made him turn pale. He hastened to make amends. “Beg you won’t give the brandy a thought!” he said. “Not that I wish to sport a painted peeper, but shouldn’t like you to feel yourself at a disadvantage. Boot might be on the other leg, too. What I mean is, not a thing I’m partial to, but I can mill my way out of a row.”
“I should like to know what the devil you mean by thinking I’m the sort of rum touch who—”
“Spoke under a misapprehension!” said Mr. Hethersett. “Took a notion into my head! Stupid thing to do!”
“What notion?” demanded the Viscount.
Mr. Hethersett, much embarrassed, coughed. Upon the question’s being repeated, with a good deal of emphasis, he said: “Couldn’t think why Lady Cardross should be afraid to tell my cousin she was in debt. Very well acquainted with Cardross, you know. Boys together. Ready to swear he’d give her anything she wanted. Might be in a tweak if she’d taken to gaming, but it can’t be that. I mean, she don’t know one card from another! Occurred to me that perhaps it was something Cardross wouldn’t allow.” He once more studied the design on his snuff-box. “Might even have forbidden it. Mind you, very understandable thing for her to do! Persuaded my cousin would think it so, too. Natural affection, I mean.”