A month after he had answered his brother's letter, Tom was disturbed one morning while he sipped his chocolate with the news that a gentleman wished to speak to him. Tom was in his bed-chamber, his round person swathed in a silken wrapper of astonishing brightness. He had not yet doffed his nightcap, and his wig lay on the dressing-table. The lean, long Moggat crept in at the door, which he seemed hardly to open, and ahem'd directly behind his master. Tom was in the act of swallowing his chocolate, and as he had not heard Moggat's slithering approach, the violent clearing of that worthy's throat startled him not a little, and he choked. Tenderly solicitous, Moggat patted him on the back until the coughs and splutters had abated. Tom bounced round in his chair to face the man. "Damn and curse it, Moggat! What d'ye mean by it? What d'ye mean by it, I say? Crawling into a room to make a noise at me just as I'm drinking! Yes, sir! Just as I'm drinking! Devil take you! D'ye hear me? Devil take you!" Moggat listened in mournful silence. When Tom ceased for want of breath, he bowed, and continued as though there had been no interruption. "There is a gentleman below, sir, as desires to have speech with you." "A gentleman? Don't you know that gentlemen don't come calling at this hour, ye ninny-pated jackass? Bring me some more chocolate!" "Yes, sir, a gentleman." "I tell you no gentleman would disturb another at this hour! Have done now, Moggat!" "And although I told the gentleman, sir, as how my master was not yet robed and accordingly could not see any visitors, he said it was of no consequence to him whatsoever, and he would be obliged to you to ask him upstairs at once, sir. So I--" "Confound his impudence!" growled Tom. "What's his name?" "The gentleman, sir, on my asking what name I was to tell you, gave me to understand that it was of no matter." "Devil take him! Show him out, Moggat! Like as not 'tis one of these cursed bailiffs. Why, you fool, what d'ye mean by letting him in?" Moggat sighed in patient resignation. "If you will allow me to say so, sir, this gentleman is not a bailiff." "Well, who is he?" "I regret, sir, I do not know." "You're a fool! What's this fellow like?" "The gentleman"--Moggat laid ever so little stress on the word--"is tall, sir, and--er--slim. He is somewhat dark as regards eyes and brows, and he is dressed, if I may say so, exceedingly modishly, with a point-edged hat, and very full-skirted puce coat, laced, French fashion, with--" Tom snatched his nightcap off and threw it at Moggat. "Numskull! D'ye think I want a list of his clothes? Show him out, the swarthy rogue! Show him out!" Moggat picked up the nightcap, and smoothed it sadly. "The gentleman seems anxious to see you, sir." "Ay! Trying to dun me, the rascal! Don't I know it! Blustering and--"