Vincent, of course, recognized every one of these plagiarisms, but what would have amused him in a young brother no plumper in the pocket than he was himself became a matter for bitter contempt when Claud inherited an easy competence. Vincent, with nothing but his allowance and the erratic generosity of his grandfather to depend on, lived precariously on the edge of Dun Territory. He was a gamester, and his luck had more than once saved him from being run quite off his legs; but he had several times been out-of-town, as the saying was; and he was no stranger to an obliging individual known to every gentleman seeking to raise the wind as Old Tens-in-the-Hundred. Envy and resentment changed his indifference to Claud into rancorous dislike. He was irritated by everything Claud did, whether it was wasting his blunt on the re-lining of his private chaise, or being such a muckworm as to travel behind job-horses. Nothing short of seeing Claud rolled-up would soften his dislike, and of that there was small likelihood: Claud’s fortune was genteel rather than handsome, but he had no taste for gaming or racing, and, like his mother, he knew how to hold household.

It was an added source of exasperation in Vincent to know that his tongue had no power to wound Claud. Nothing short of being tipped into a ditch stirred Claud to resentment; and if he thought about Vincent at all it was with no other emotion than a sort of mild surprise. None of his brother’s hazardous exploits awoke in his breast a spark of envy or of emulation: he envied Vincent only his splendid shoulders, and the incomparable blacking which made his boots shine like mirrors. Unfortunately both these desirable possessions were beyond his reach. Nature had seen fit to add drooping shoulders to his willowy form; and the secret of the blacking was locked in Crimplesham’s bosom. Buckram and wadding could supply what Nature had withheld, but neither guile nor bribery would ever win from Crimplesham the least clue to his secret.

If it cost Claud a pang to know that Vincent’s Hessians outshone his own, this was nothing to the rage and the despair that filled his valet’s soul. Nor was the hostility that flourished between the brothers comparable to the feelings of jealousy, hatred, and contempt which filled the hearts of their valets. If Crimplesham excelled in the arts of polishing boots, and keeping buckskins in perfect order, Polyphant’s genius lay in his skill with an iron, and his flair for evolving new and intricate modes of tieing a neckcloth, or dashing styles for his master’s curled and pomaded locks. He believed himself to be by far the more expert valet, and it galled him beyond endurance to know that, while Crimplesham’s one excellence was apparent to all, his own talents must inevitably go to his master’s credit. Few people would suspect any aspirant to high fashion of entrusting the arrangement of his hair, or of his neckcloth, to his valet; none would suppose that any gentleman would black his own boots.

By the time Claud hurried into his bedchamber, Polyphant had unpacked his portmanteaux, and had even found time to press the creases from a long-tailed coat of superfine, and a pair of black satin knee-breeches. These Claud eyed with disfavour, uttering a protest: “No, I’ll be damned if I’ll wear that rig here! Dash it, it ain’t the thing, Polyphant!”

“No, sir, and well do I know it!” agreed Polyphant, in a feeling voice. “The proper mode, of course, would be pantaloons, since it is hardly feasible to suppose you will be taking a look-in at Almack’s.” He ventured to point this pleasantry with a titter, but it did not answer; and upon Claud’s demanding peevishly how the devil he could take a look-in at Almack’s in September, and from Darracott Place, he at once banished the smile from his face, and said: “No, sir. Very true. But it might be wise to consider his lordship’s prejudice. Not that I would presume to dictate. I did venture to enquire of his lordship’s man if the custom of wearing knee-breeches every evening still obtains at Darracott Place. He assured me that it does, sir.”

The sinister nature of this warning was not lost on Claud, and he said no more. It vexed him very much to be obliged to present himself to his family in a costume so out-dated as to amount to a sartorial solecism, but he had his reward in that he incurred no censure from his grandfather other than the comprehensive disapproval contained in that gentleman’s greeting. “Twiddle-poop!” said his lordship, as Claud minced up to him to make his bow, and thereafter paid no heed to him.

Dinner, in Mrs. Darracott’s view (for her expectations had not been high), passed off very well. No lobsters had been obtainable, but Godney had procured some partridges, which, with some dried salmon, cleverly dressed in a case, quite made up this deficiency, and drew praise from Matthew, who was known to be a gourmet; and although the family reunion could hardly have been described as convivial it was not rendered hideous by any explosion of wrath from Lord Darracott.

When the gentlemen rose from the table, my lord, recommending his son, and his younger grandsons, to join the ladies, bore Vincent off to the library, saying, as soon as they had reached this sanctuary: “Your father’s as sick as a horse over this business,”

“And who shall blame him?” returned Vincent. “I’m not chirping merry about it myself, you know, sir, and I should suppose that you are not thrown into transports precisely.”

“No, by God!” His lordship poured brandy into two glasses, tossed off the contents of his own, and refilled it. “I did my best to keep the fellow out, but the trap’s down. Got to lick him into shape.”

“I feel sure you’ll manage to do so, sir. How old is he?”

“Much your own age: seven-and-twenty.”

“If he is as old as that, he’s irreclaimable,” said Vincent cynically.

“We’ll see that!” snapped his lordship. After a moment he added grudgingly: “He won’t eat with his knife, at all events. He’s a military man: one of these new regiments, but still—!”

“A military man! Oh, I was expecting a yokel in homespuns! Er—commissioned, sir?”

“Major,” replied Lord Darracott shortly.

Vincent’s eyes opened wide at that. “The devil he is!” For a moment his expression was inscrutable; then he gave a short laugh, and said: “Well it’s to be devoutly hoped that he’s up to the rig, for you can scarcely send a Major back to school, sir!”

“Can’t I?” said my lord, looking grimmer than ever. “This whipstraw is my grandson, I’ll have you remember! He’ll dance to my piping, or I’ll send him packing!”

“Am I to understand, sir, that you have the intention of keeping him here?” demanded Vincent.

“Yes, if he behaves himself. I want him under my eye. The thing turns out not as badly as I feared, but there are plenty of rum ’uns with military titles these days, and this fellow was reared the Lord knows how—in a weaver’s hovel, I daresay! If I’d known—if I’d ever dreamt—!”

He broke off, his hands clenching and unclenching as they always did when his rage threatened to master him. He glanced under his craggy brows at Vincent. “Well! Between us we should be able to give him a new touch!”

“Between us?” repeated Vincent. “My dear sir, I would do much to oblige you, but bear-leading a cousin I heartily wish at the devil is a feat quite beyond me.”

“I didn’t say you were to bear-lead him. You’re an idle, extravagant dog, but your ton is good: you’ll serve as a model for him to copy!”

“If I had had the remotest guess that that was why I was invited I shouldn’t have come!” said Vincent.

“Oh, yes, you would!” retorted his lordship. “And, what’s more, jackanapes, you’ll stay for precisely as long as I choose, unless you have a fancy for paying your own debts in future!” He observed, with satisfaction, that he had at once infuriated and silenced his grandson, and smiled derisively, “Ay, that’s where the shoe pinches, isn’t it? Scorched again?”

Regaining command over his temper, Vincent replied coolly: “Oh, no! Just a trifle cucumberish! I own it will suit me pretty well to remain here for the next few weeks—until the quarter, you know!”

“The allowance your father gives you won’t bring youround,” remarked his lordship.

“No, sir, but the first October meeting may!” countered Vincent.

“I wish I may see it! Well, I didn’t send for you only for that. Since I can’t keep the fellow out of the family you’d best meet him at the outset, all of you!”

“All of us?” said Vincent. “Are we to have the rare felicity of seeing my aunts here, sir? Not to mention their numerous progeny, and—”

“Don’t be impertinent, sir!” barked his lordship.

Vincent, who knew very well that he was perfectly indifferent to his three married daughters, and, indeed, to all his female descendants, bowed meekly. My lord glared at him for a moment, and then said: “I don’t care how soon the rest of ’em take themselves off, but I want you here.” He paused, frowning. “It’s the boy!” he said abruptly. “I’m not going to have that fellow putting ideas into his head: I’ve had trouble enough over that silly business!”

Vincent raised his brows. “Richmond?”

“Ay, Richmond. It’s gone off now, but he was devilish set on joining, six months ago. Fell into flat despair when I told him I wouldn’t have it. Well, as I say, the notion seems to have gone off, and I don’t want him to start moping and pining again. He’s a good boy, but he’s got an odd kick in his gallop, you know. For two pins he’d hang on this fellow’s lips—make a hero of him, I daresay! Well, he won’t do that while you’re here.”

“Won’t he?” said Vincent. “Er—what do I do if I find him talking to our unwanted cousin? Take him by the ear, and haul him off?”