"You'll know all in good time; I'm coming to that; and not 'Butler,' please: Mr. Effingham is my name just now; I'll tell you why by and by. Well, I couldn't get hold of you anyhow, and I thought you'd gone dead or something, when last night, as I was standing waiting to come out of the Parthenium, I heard the linkmen outside hollering 'Lady Mitford's carriage!' like mad. The name strikes on my ears, and I thought I'd wait and see her ladyship. Presently down came the lady we've just seen, leaning on the arm of a cove in a big black beard like a foreigner. 'No go,' says I, 'that's not my man;' and I says to a flunkey who was standing next to me, 'He's a rum 'un to look at, is her husband.' 'That's not her husband,' he says; 'this is Sir Charles coming now.' The name Charles and the figure being like struck me at once; so I took the flunkey into the public next door, and we had a glass, and he told me all about the old gent and his kids being drowned, and your coming in for the title. 'That's my man,' says I to myself; and I found out where you lived, and came straight on here this morning." "And now that your prying and sneaking has been successful and you have found me, what do you want?" "Ah! I thought you'd lose your temper; Tony always said you was hotheaded. What do I want! Well, to be very short and come to the point at once--money." "I guessed as much." "Yes, there's no denying it; I'm regularly stumped. I suppose you were surprised now to hear I wasn't flush, after seeing me so well got-up? But it's a deal of it dummy. These pins now,--Lowther Arcade! No ticker at the end of this guard; nothing but a key-look!" And he twitched a key out of his waistcoat-pocket. "My boots too are infernally leaky; and my hat has become quite limp from being perpetually damped and ironed. Yes, I want money badly." "Look here, Mr.----" "Effingham." "Mr. Effingham, you have taken, as you yourself admit, an immense deal of trouble to hunt me up, and having found me you ask me for money, on the ground of your being the brother of an infernal scoundrel whom I had once the ill-luck to be associated with--don't interrupt me, please. It wasn't Tony Butler's fault that I didn't die on a dunghill, or that I am not now--" "In Norfolk Island," said Mr. Effingham, getting in his words this time. Sir Charles glared fiercely at him for an instant, and then continued: "Now I expected I should have to encounter this sort of thing from the people who pillaged me when I was poor, and would make that an excuse for further extortion, and I determined not to accede to any application. But as you're the first who has applied, and as you've neither bullied nor whined, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you, on condition I never see or hear of you again, this five-pound note." Mr. Effingham laughed, a real hearty laugh, as he shook his head, and said: "Won't do: nothing like enough."