"Oh, yes, Howard," said Lord Charles, "you needn't be shy. Brummer don't mind taking it a bit. Why, it's a fleabite to him. He's got a hundred thousand sitting on his chest at home." "But I tell you I haven't got it," I said. "I've only got about fifteen pounds in the world." "Well, then, what do you want to come poking yourself in 'ere for in that rig out?" enquired Brummer with more oaths. "We ain't a wild beast show, are we? I thought there was something fishy about you when Perry first brought you in." "What's this? What's this?" exclaimed a voice at my elbow. "I say, Brummer, my man, don't forget yourself, you know. No language! It's one of the rules of the club, to which we have all subscribed." I looked round to see standing behind me an athletic-looking young man in the dress of a curate.[21] "Ah, Thompson!" said Lord Charles. "Come to see we're all behaving ourselves, eh? It's all right. Brummer was just going to write out a U. O. Me to give to Mr. Howard. Here's a fountain pen, Brummer. You can write it on the back of the score." Brummer scrawled "U. O. Me L234" and signed his name to it in an execrable fist, and I put it in my pocket, wondering what I was to do about it. Then Brummer and the stockbroker got up and left the table. Lord Charles introduced me to Mr. Thompson, and then drifted off himself, with a sort of determined carelessness. Somewhat to my surprise, Mr. Thompson gripped me affectionately by the arm just above the elbow, and led me out of the room. "Very pleased to make your acquaintance, old fellow," he said heartily. "You and I must get to know each other better. Some night, when you've got nothing better to do, you must come round to my digs and have a yarn, and a cup of coffee. Now, what have you been doing with yourself all day?" I was led into the big room again, and deposited in a chair, from which I could see Mr. Perry slumbering by the window in the evening sunlight, while the curate took one next to me, in which he sat upright, with his legs crossed, and his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat. "After all," he said, looking at me with manly but somewhat embarrassing tenderness, "smoking and drinking and playing cards aren't everything in the world, are they! You feel that yourself, I know. It's so jolly to feel you've done something with your day--something to raise a pal." I muttered something to the effect that it _was_ rather jolly; but he did not seem to want me particularly to help in the conversation. "Do you take any interest in Coleoptera?" he asked, and proceeded, clasping his hands and cracking their joints: "Coleoptera is larks. A few fellows come round to me every Tuesday evening, and we teach each other something about the beggars. How would you like to join us to-night?" "I don't know where it is," I said. He gave me the address of his rooms, with a half-concealed air of eagerness. "I mean I don't know where Coleoptera is," I said. "I never could tackle geography."