Oblivious of everything, we continued to eat and drink, and be of good cheer. In the audacity of our mood neither Cynthia nor I gave a thought to our pursuers. We did not consider that we were in the house of the enemy, and that it could be by no means unexpected that we should be surprised at any hour. And I am not sure that we were prepared greatly to care should aught so untoward happen. By this I believe we were utterly desperate. A reaction had come upon us. We, who had been so excessively solicitous for the well-being of our skins and the preservation of our perfect liberty, were at this moment unable to muster much interest in these matters. We were in a warm room, in a congenial society, snug, well fed, and mighty well content. No two persons could have been in a happier case in which to confront the worst. Let the devil walk in if he chose. For once we were in a condition to beard him. Our cheeks burnt; our eyes shone; our hearts were overflowing and generous. Such was the state of our minds, when without a solitary note of warning, and as a wholly natural consequence, the devil walked in. In the very height of our cheerful rattle, of our foolish talk that hallowed by the bottle was so witty, the door opened suddenly, and the oath that sprang to my lips involuntarily to greet the servant who had so unceremoniously obtruded himself upon our familiar gaiety, was stifled before it was uttered. The little Duke hopped in, purple, and gobbling like a turkey. The cool and smiling Mr. Humphrey Waring, chewing his eternal wisp of straw, followed at his heels at a more elegant leisure. I suppose their sudden unheralded appearance was to us in the nature of a thunderbolt. Yet after all it was so little unexpected as not to astonish us. And, speaking for myself, now that I was fairly cornered, my last card played, the old recklessness returned, and instead of faltering before this outraged old gentleman, I rose, bowed, and greeted him with the completest self possession. And as I did so, whether by virtue of the noble wine of his Grace's cellar, or as probably by an ecstasy of desperation, I conceived a kind of joy of our meeting. Between his alternate gobblings and hoppings and gaspings for breath, the old gentleman must have come perilously close to his inevitable apoplexy. At first in his inarticulate fury he could neither speak nor act; and I found myself awaiting his good pleasure quite a long time, with a smile of greeting on my lips, and my hand on my heart. CHAPTER XXII THE LAST In the end it was neither his Grace nor I who broke the spell. Mr. Waring took the wisp of straw from his teeth, and says: "Tiverton, my dear fellow, you amuse me." "I rather amuse myself," says I, a little wearily. "We are come to the last act in this somewhat pitiful poor-hearted sort of farce, and I suppose we must continue furiously to laugh until the curtain is rung down."