arning.

He drew Fleetwood aside. A word was whispered, and they broke asunder
with a snap. Francis was called. His master gave him his keys, and
despatched him into the town to purchase a knapsack or bag for the
outfit of a jolly beggar. The prospect delighted Lord Fleetwood. He
sang notes from the deep chest, flaunting like an opera brigand,
and contemplating his wretched satellite's indecision with brimming
amusement.

'Remember, we fight for our money. I carry mine,' he said to Woodseer.

'Wouldn't it be expedient, Fleetwood...' Sir Meeson suggested a
treasurer in the person of himself.

'Not a florin, Corby! I should find it all gambled away at Baden.'

'But I am not Abrane, I'm not Abrane! I never play, I have no mania,
none. It would be prudent, Fleetwood.'

'The slightest bulging of a pocket would show on you, Corby; and they
would be at you, they would fall on you and pluck you to have another
fling. I 'd rather my money should go to a knight of the road than feed
that dragon's jaw. A highwayman seems an honest fellow compared with
your honourable corporation of fly-catchers. I could surrender to him
with some satisfaction after a trial of the better man. I 've tried
these tables, and couldn't stir a pulse. Have you?'

It had to be explained to Woodseer what was meant by trying the tables.
'Not I,' said he, in strong contempt of the queer allurement.

Lord Fleetwood studied him half a minute, as if measuring and discarding
a suspicion of the young philosopher's possible weakness under
temptation.

Sir Meeson Corby accompanied the oddly assorted couple through the town
and a short way along the road to the mountain, for the sake of quieting
his conscience upon the subject of his leaving them together. He could
not have sat down a second time at a table with those hands. He said
it:--he could not have done the thing. So the best he could do was to
let them go. Like many of his class, he had a mind open to the effect
of striking contrasts, and the spectacle of the wealthiest nobleman in
Great Britain tramping the road, pack on back, with a young nobody
for his comrade, a total stranger, who might be a cut-throat, and
was avowedly next to a mendicant, charged him with quantities of
interjectory matter, that he caught himself firing to the foreign people
on the highway. Hundreds of thousands a year, and tramping it like a
pedlar, with a beggar for his friend! He would have given something
to have an Engli