“I don't mean in good society,” she corrected, with unconscious irony. “Oh,” said he, very much relieved. “He's a demmed cad,” said his lordship conclusively. “Because he chucked your men into the river?” asked Penelope sweetly. “She's dooced pretty, eh?” whispered the duke to Mrs. De Peyton without taking his eyes from his young countrywoman's face. “Who?” asked Mrs. De Peyton. Then he relinquished his gaze and turned his monocle blankly upon the American beside him. “I shall send him a warning that he'll have to respect, cad or no cad,” said Bazel-hurst, absently spreading butter upon his fingers instead of the roll. “_Send_ him a warning?” asked his queenly wife. “Aren't you going to see him personally? You can't trust the servants, it seems.” “My dear, I can't afford to lose my temper and engage in a row with that bounder, and there's no end of trouble I might get into--” “I shall see him myself, if you won't,” said her ladyship firmly. There was frigid silence at the table for a full minute, relieved only when his lordship's monocle dropped into the glass of water he was trying to convey to his lips. He thought best to treat the subject lightly, so he laughed in his most jovial way. “You'd better take a mackintosh with you, my dear,” he said. “Remember what he told Tompkins and James.” “He will not throw _me_ into the river. It might be different if you went. Therefore I think--” “Throw me in, would he?” and Bazel-hurst laughed loudly. “I 'm no groom, my dear. You forget that it possible for Mr. Shaw to be soused.” “He was good enough to souse himself this morning,” volunteered Penelope. “I rather like him.” “By Jove, Cecil, you're not afraid to meet him, are you?” asked the duke with tantalizing coolness. “You know, if you are, I'll go over and talk to the fellow.” “Afraid? Now, hang it all, Barminster, that's rather a shabby thing to suggest. You forget India.” “I 'm trying to. Demmed miserable time I had out there. But this fellow fights. That's more than the beastly natives did when we were out there. Marching is n't fighting, you know.” “Confound it, you forget the time--” “Mon Dieu, are we to compare ze Hindoo harem wiz ze American feest slugger?” cried the count, with a wry face. “What's that?” demanded two noblemen in one voice. The count apologized for his English. “No one but a coward would permit this disagreeable Shaw creature to run affairs in such a high-handed way,” said her ladyship. “Of course Cecil is not a coward.” “Thank you, my dear. Never fear, ladies and gentlemen; I shall attend to this person. He won't soon forget what I have to say to him,” promised Lord Bazelhurst, mentally estimating the number of brandies and soda it would require in preparation. “This afternoon?” asked his wife, with cruel insistence. “Yes, Evelyn--if I can find him.”