They were sitting together after dinner when he commenced the subject. He and Mrs. Val and Clementina had done the Tudors the honour of dining with them; and the ladies had now gone up into the drawing-room, and were busy talking over the Chiswick affair, which was to come off in the next week, and after which Mrs. Val intended to give a small evening party to the most _élite_ of her acquaintance. 'We won't have all the world, my dear,' she had said to Gertrude, 'but just a few of our own set that are really nice. Clementina is dying to try that new back step with M. Jaquêtanàpe, so we won't crowd the room.' Such were the immediate arrangements of the Tudor and Scott party. 'So M'Buffer is off at last,' said Scott, as he seated himself and filled his glass, after closing the dining-room door. 'He brought his pigs to a bad market after all.' 'He was an infernal rogue,' said Alaric. 'Well, I suppose he was,' said Undy; 'and a fool into the bargain to be found out.' 'He was a downright swindler,' said Alaric. 'After all,' said the other, not paying much attention to Alaric's indignation, 'he did not do so very badly. Why, M'Buffer has been at it now for thirteen years. He began with nothing; he had neither blood nor money; and God knows he had no social merits to recommend him. He is as vulgar as a hog, as awkward as an elephant, and as ugly as an ape. I believe he never had a friend, and was known at his club to be the greatest bore that ever came out of Scotland; and yet for thirteen years he has lived on the fat of the land; for five years he has been in Parliament, his wife has gone about in her carriage, and every man in the city has been willing to shake hands with him.' 'And what has it all come to?' said Alaric, whom the question of M'Buffer's temporary prosperity made rather thoughtful. 'Well, not so bad either; he has had his fling for thirteen years, and that's something. Thirteen good years out of a man's life is more than falls to the lot of every one. And then, I suppose, he has saved something.' 'And he is spoken of everywhere as a monster for whom hanging is too good.' 'Pshaw! that won't hang him. Yesterday he was a god; to-day he is a devil; to-morrow he'll be a man again; that's all.' 'But you don't mean to tell me, Undy, that the consciousness of such crimes as those which M'Buffer has committed must not make a man wretched in this world, and probably in the next also?' 'Judge not, and ye shall not be judged,' said Undy, quoting Scripture as the devil did before him; 'and as for consciousness of crime, I suppose M'Buffer has none at all. I have no doubt he thinks himself quite as honest as the rest of the world. He firmly believes that all of us are playing the same game, and using the same means, and has no idea whatever that dishonesty is objectionable.' 'And you, what do you think about it yourself?'