The ex-M.P. nudged his friends to call their attention to something good. The rest received the introduction and the remarks which followed in silence. 'Arundel, the gentleman by the fireplace, he with the pipe--is our Shylock, sometimes called the Lord Shylock.' The money-lender looked up with a dull and unintelligent eye: I believe the allusion was entirely above his comprehension.--'Beside him is Mr. Vulpes--he with his head buried in the paper--you'll see him presently. Mr. Vulpes is advanced in years, but well preserved, and knows every letter of the law: he is, indeed, an ornament of the lower branch. Vulpes will let you a house--he has many most charming residences--or will advance you money on mortgage. He knows the law of landlord and tenant, and the law regarding Bills of Sale. I recommend Vulpes to your friendly consideration.--Here is Senex Bibulus Benevolens.'--The old gentleman kindly inclined his head, being too far gone for speech.--'Here is a most learned counsel, who ought, had merit prevailed, to have been by this time Lord Chancellor, Chief Justice, Judge or Master of the Rolls, or Queen's Counsel at least. So far he is still a Junior, but we hope for his speedy advancement.--Sir, I entreat the honour of offering you a goblet of more generous drink.--Robert, Irish whisky and a lemon for this gentleman.--There'--he pointed to the ex-M.P., who again nudged his friends and grinned--'is our legislator and statesman, the pride of his constituents, the darling of Ballynacuddery till they turned him out.--There'--he pointed to the deboshed clerk--'is a member of a great modern profession, a gentleman with whom it is indeed a pride to sit down. He is Monsieur le Mari: Monsieur le Mari complaisant et content.' 'I don't know what you mean,' said the gentleman indicated. 'If you want to talk Greek, talk it outside.' 'I cannot stay,' said Athelstan, looking about the room with scant respect. 'I will call upon you at your Chambers.' 'Do--do, my dear fellow.' Athelstan shook hands and walked away. 'Now, there's a man, gentlemen, who might have done anything--anything he might have done. Rowed stroke to his boat. Threw up everything eight years ago and went away--nobody knew why. Sad to see so much promise wasted. Sad--sad. He hasn't even touched his drink. Then I must--myself.' And he did. Observe that there is no such lamentation over the failure of a promising young man as from one who has also failed. For, by a merciful arrangement, the failure seldom suspects himself of having failed. 'Now, Mr. Checkley,' said the barrister, 'he's gone away and you needn't hide yourself any longer--and you can let me have my paper again.' Mr. Checkley spoke no more that evening. He drank up his rum-and-water, and he went away mightily perturbed. That Athelstan Arundel had come back portended that something would happen. And like King Cole's prophet, he could not foretell the nature of the event. CHAPTER IV A REBELLIOUS CHILD