Whilst they were engaged in their conference, Rawdon dispatched Captain

Macmurdo's servant to Curzon Street, with an order to the domestic

there to give up a bag of clothes of which the Colonel had great need.

And during the man's absence, and with great labour and a Johnson's

Dictionary, which stood them in much stead, Rawdon and his second

composed a letter, which the latter was to send to Lord Steyne.

Captain Macmurdo had the honour of waiting upon the Marquis of Steyne,

on the part of Colonel Rawdon Crawley, and begged to intimate that he

was empowered by the Colonel to make any arrangements for the meeting

which, he had no doubt, it was his Lordship's intention to demand, and

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which the circumstances of the morning had rendered inevitable.

Captain Macmurdo begged Lord Steyne, in the most polite manner, to

appoint a friend, with whom he (Captain M.M.) might communicate, and

desired that the meeting might take place with as little delay as

possible.

In a postscript the Captain stated that he had in his possession a

bank-note for a large amount, which Colonel Crawley had reason to

suppose was the property of the Marquis of Steyne. And he was anxious,

on the Colonel's behalf, to give up the note to its owner.

By the time this note was composed, the Captain's servant returned from

his mission to Colonel Crawley's house in Curzon Street, but without

the carpet-bag and portmanteau, for which he had been sent, and with a

very puzzled and odd face.

"They won't give 'em up," said the man; "there's a regular shinty in

the house, and everything at sixes and sevens. The landlord's come in

and took possession. The servants was a drinkin' up in the

drawingroom. They said--they said you had gone off with the plate,

Colonel"--the man added after a pause--"One of the servants is off

already. And Simpson, the man as was very noisy and drunk indeed, says

nothing shall go out of the house until his wages is paid up."

The account of this little revolution in May Fair astonished and gave a

little gaiety to an otherwise very triste conversation. The two

officers laughed at Rawdon's discomfiture.

"I'm glad the little 'un isn't at home," Rawdon said, biting his nails.

"You remember him, Mac, don't you, in the Riding School? How he sat the

kicker to be sure! didn't he?"

"That he did, old boy," said the good-natured Captain.

Little Rawdon was then sitting, one of fifty gown boys, in the Chapel

of Whitefriars School, thinking, not about the sermon, but about going

home next Saturday, when his father would certainly tip him and perhaps

would take him to the play.

"He's a regular trump, that boy," the father went on, still musing

about his son. "I say, Mac, if anything goes wrong--if I drop--I

should like you to--to go and see him, you know, and say that I was

very fond of him, and that. And--dash it--old chap, give him these

gold sleeve-buttons: it's all I've got." He covered his face with his

black hands, over which the tears rolled and made furrows of white.

Mr. Macmurdo had also occasion to take off his silk night-cap and rub

it across his eyes.




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