. Laughing at
his own want of memory, Percival put some silver into Beck's hand,--more
silver than Beck had ever before received for similar service,--and
said,--

"Well, my man, I suppose I can trust you to take my horse to his
stables,--No.----, the Mews, behind Curzon Street. Poor fellow, he wants
his supper,--and you, too, I suppose!"

Beck smiled a pale, hungry smile, and pulled his forelock politely.

"I can take the 'oss werry safely, your 'onor."

"Take him, then, and good evening; but don't get on, for your life."

"Oh, no, sir; I never gets on,--'t aint in my ways."

And Beck slowly led the horse through the crowd, till he vanished from
Percival's eyes.

Just then a man passing through the street paused as he saw the young
gentleman on the steps of the club, and said gayly, "Ah! how do you do?
Pretty faces in plenty out to-night. Which way are you going?"

"That is more than I can tell you, Mr. Varney. I was just thinking which
turn to take,--the right or the left."

"Then let me be your guide;" and Varney offered his arm.

Percival accepted the courtesy, and the two walked on towards
Piccadilly. Many a kind glance from the milliners--and maid-servants
whom the illuminations drew abroad, roved, somewhat impartially, towards
St. John and his companion; but they dwelt longer on the last, for there
at least they were sure of a return. Varney, if not in his first youth,
was still in the prime of life, and Time had dealt with him so leniently
that he retained all the personal advantages of youth itself. His
complexion still was clear; and as only his upper lip, decorated with
a slight silken and well-trimmed mustache, was unshaven, the contour
of the face added to the juvenility of his appearance by the rounded
symmetry it betrayed. His hair escaped from his hat in fair unchanged
luxuriance. And the nervous figure, agile as a panther's, though
broad-shouldered and deep-chested, denoted all the slightness and
elasticity of twenty-five, combined with the muscular power of forty.
His dress was rather fantastic,--too showy for the good taste which is
habitual to the English gentleman,--and there was a peculiarity in his
gait, almost approaching to a strut, which bespoke a desire of effect,
a consciousness of personal advantages, equally opposed to the mien
and manner of Percival's usual companions; yet withal, even the most
fastidious would have hesitated to apply to Gabriel Varney the epithet
of "vulgar."