d we must stake gold with the host of the "Plume of
Feathers;" and the long and the short of it was, I never could tell how
he put it into our heads, to pledge some of the silver spoons and a gold
chain of the master's, intending to take them out when we won the money.
Well, Strawberry lost, and we were left in the lurch. So we told Mr.
Archer how it was; for he was an off-handed man when he had anything in
view, and he told us, as we thought, he'd help us if we lost. "Help
you," says he, with a sort of laugh he had, "I want help myself; I
haven't a guinea, and I'm afraid you'll be hanged: and then," says he,
"stay a bit, and I'll find a way."

'I think he _was_ in a bad plight just then himself; he was awful
expensive with horses and--and--other things; and I think there was a
writ, or maybe more, out against him, from other places, and he wanted a
lump of money in his hand to levant with, and go abroad. Well, listen,
and don't be starting, or making a row, Sir,' and a sulky, lowering,
hang-dog shadow, came over Irons. 'Your father, Lord Dunoran, played
cards; his partner was Mr. Charles Archer. Whist it was--with a
gentleman of the name of Beauclerc, and I forget the other--he wore a
chocolate suit, and a black wig. 'Twas I carried them their wine. Well,
Mr. Beauclerc won, and Mr. Archer stopped playing, for he had lost
enough; and the gentleman in the chocolate--what was his name?--Edwards,
I think--ay, 'twas--_yes_, Edwards, it was--was tired, and turned
himself about to the fire, and took a pipe of tobacco; and my lord, your
father, played piquet with Mr. Beauclerc; and he lost a power of money
to him, Sir; and, by bad luck, he paid a great part of it, as they
played, in rouleaus of gold, for he had won at the dice down stairs.
Well, Mr. Beauclerc was a little hearty, and he grew tired, and was for
going to bed. But my lord was angry, and being disguised with liquor
too, he would not let him go till they played more; and play they did,
and the luck still went the same way; and my lord grew fierce over it,
and cursed and drank, and that did not mend his luck you may be sure;
and at last Mr. Beauclerc swears he'd play no more; and both kept
talking together, and neither heard well what t'other said; but there
was some talk about settling the dispute in the morning.

'Well, Sir, in goes Mr. Beauclerc, staggering--his room was the Flower
de luce--and down he throws himself, clothes an' all, on his bed; and
then my lor