"Tonnerre," asked Sir William at the moment, and affecting to vary the theme, according to the taste of the person, "Do you know which is the favourite for the Derby?" "Gad, he turns his words as many ways as a lathe," whispered Lord Gascoigne again--"understands all subjects alike, and is as learned as the occult philosopher of Hudibras." "And as much renowned for profound and solid stupidity," rejoined the latter. A laugh escaped at these words; and as their "ha! ha! ha!" passed round, Sir William laughed louder. "Very good that, Spencer, I just caught the end of it--the point is always in the tail you know." "He caught it," said Lord Gascoigne, repeating the words, and looking at Spencer Newcomb; "do you think he did?" "If it was with his mouth, he might certainly--for it is large enough to catch any thing--and he is welcome; I give him my jest for his dinner, it is the only return I ever make." "And you thrive on your bargain generally, Spencer, I should suppose." "How long do you think I took from Penzance to town?" said Lord Tonnerre aloud; and without waiting for any reply added,--"Eighteen hours by ----, in hack chaises too, changing every stage." "_I_ do not conceive it much to do," rejoined Lord Baskerville. "I remember, (hem!) once leaving town seven hours after the mail; and though I had rips of horses, I arrived, (hem!) at twenty minutes before his Majesty's stage coach, (hem!)" "Well," said Lord Gascoigne, "well, Basky, that is excellent,--ha! ha! ha! that is excellent,--ha! ha! ha!" The abbreviation of his patronymic was always distasteful to Lord Baskerville, and on this occasion he not only felt his dignity compromised by the license of Lord Gascoigne's address, but was himself offended by the covert suspicion conveyed of the substantiality of the fact he had related; turning therefore away with an air of contempt, he addressed himself to another of the party. Lord Gascoigne, however, was not so easily to be silenced, and exchanging looks with those who had watched the scene, added, with very provoking calmness, "Basky, you were not offended, I hope, with any thing I said, I meant only--" "Not at all," replied Lord Baskerville, the corners of his mouth dropping in the exact angle of scorn by which, as a mathematical man of _ton_, he would have described his contempt of the speaker,--"not at all, Gascoigne; I beg you won't think of it;"--and he turned again to the party with whom he was conversing.