“That be kind of you now, Master Paul, very; you knows I likes taters,--we’ve all our likes and dislikes, eh, Mister Somerton? My weakness is Mrs. Dibble and baked pertaters!” “And pudding, old Dib--now confess.” Old Dibble laughed, and said Paul was a regular good un; and from this the porter was easily led on to repeat little things which he occasionally saw and heard in Mr. Richard Tallant’s room. Whilst they were talking, a brougham pulled up to the edge of the pavement, and Paul saw that it was occupied by the Hon. Lionel Hammerton. “Let us wait here a few moments, Dib; I think I know that gentleman,” said Paul, detaining his friend. A smart footman leaped from the box, opened the carriage door, and out stepped Mr. Hammerton, who immediately disappeared up a flight of steps which led into a dingy but rather ostentatious building. “Dib, old boy, we must see what place this is.” “This?” said Dibble; “why it be the Ashford Club. I know Mister Fencer, who takes care of the rooms; Mrs. Fencer be quite a crony of Mrs. Dibble’s.” “The Ashford Club, eh? I should like to have a peep at the place inside, Dib.” “Well, that be easy enough, I s’pose. Let us call and ask Mr. Fencer how he be.” They went up the flight of stone steps, and found Mr. Fencer, who patronised Mr. Dibble in majestic style. Fencer was a fussy, pompous person, as was also Mrs. Fencer, who was absent this evening; being, in fact, on a visit to Mrs. Dibble. Fencer, therefore, was fussier and more pompous than usual, and he took Mr. Somerton and Dibble into his little room and treated them to hot gin-and-water, _ad libitum_. By-and-by Paul Somerton insiduously got on the blind side of Mr. Fencer, and obtained permission to go and have a peep into the card-room; where Paul, through a half-opened door, saw Mr. Richard Tallant, Mr. Shuffleton Gibbs, Mr. Hammerton, and another gentleman, seriously occupied at cards. There were several other little card parties in the room, but Paul had no eyes for any other table than that at which the Hon. Lionel Hammerton was seated. Earl Verner’s brother was evidently the greatest loser, though his partner, Mr. Tallant, was also betting heavily, and unsuccessfully it seemed, with the fourth gentleman, who was unknown to Paul. This was enough for the present. Paul joined Fencer and Dibble again, making himself particularly agreeable to the former, and promising to pay him another visit on the first opportunity that occurred. Meanwhile Paul cared for nothing more but to get back to Pimlico and to bed. There was something wrong going on, Paul was sure; he would write to Amy in the morning and reply fully to her inquiries. Dibble was particularly communicative on the way home, on account of Fencer’s large dose of gin; he told Paul that he would stick to him till death, and tell him anything he knew. He believed Mister Gibbs was no better than a swindler, and his master’s son was surely a reprobate.