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heel, and, as if to hide his countenance, turned to the window.

"Jemmy-Jemmy, don't say so. What you have said to the Count is a fearful charge, and a man of honour-"

Squanderfield would have gone on in this mildly remonstrating and persuasively pacificating style, had not Inglis in his frenzy interrupted him.

"I'll swear the villain changed themplayed foully with cogged dice-why did he throw them into the-"

"You have fairly lost, and-" his lordship was interrupted.

"I did not—and this I tell you, my lord, you three are leagued rascals-yes you are !" exclaimed Inglis, as he breathlessly threw himself, or passively dropped, into the chair.

"I'm sorry for your behaviour," provokingly returned his lordship. "I repeat you have fairly lost, and like most mean-bred, puddle-blooded men as you are, you try to asperse your victor. Sir, were I the Count de Puffendoff, I would endure no such insolence from so basely-descended varlet as you are.

You have imbibed too copiously of the brandy-punch-your tongue falters in its falsehoods, and your eyes look red and drunken or you must be dreaming of the play you saw some half dozen nights ago, where, in the fifth act, Biron and the princess are in dialogue :

Biron. Nay, then, two treys (an if you grow so nice) Metheglin, wort, and malmsey. Well run, dice! There's half a dozen sweets.

Prin.

Seventh sweet adieu!

Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.

Yes, I protest you're wandering-that you are thinking of Love's Labours Lost, or you would not thus most wantonly, and most cravenly, have made so shameful a thrust at the iron panoply of the Count de Puffendoff's good name. I, too, lost at cards, and egad! most fearfully, yet, you see, we aristocrats can lose, and even smile at ill-success!" in an irrelevant and unconnected strain replied Lord Squanderfield, whose profound honour and nice sensibilities had now been what he called cruelly maligned and trampled on.

Inglis seemed for a few moments as if he were smitten by an aërolite-his brow grew clammy-his gaze was distracted—his senses swam. He was not listening to the unopportune and burlesque reference made to Shakspeare; he was silent, lost in bewilderment. The paroxysm of madness returning, he half leapt from the chair, stamped his foot on the floor, and prefacing the exclamation with an awful epithet, vociferated, "I'll swear I have been traduced and plundered by three ruffian robbers, and-and- I am ruined -h-!"

"He's turning drunker still-all at once, by Jove!" coolly and sarcastically said his Lordship. Come Puffendoff, my good fellow, where is your coat? A feeling of self-respect bids us cut such society as this; let us effect our exit," then taking up his hat, and after yoking his arm in Puffendoff's, drew the quasi-reluctant Count out of the room.

Inglis paced two or three times up and down the apartment, hit his breast as if in despair, poured out menaces, vows, and imprecations, in a tone and manner worthy of

Bethlem or St. Luke's; then with a maniac's fury he rang the bell, and ordered a bottle of brandy and cold water. The Lethean draught was soon supplied; he plenished the tumbler in quick repetition, till in no great length of time he fell in a state of inebriated insensibility on the floor; and after being discovered in this brutified condition, was carried to bed!

CHAPTER XV.

"If thou be'st he: but O! how fallen, how changed!"

PARADISE LOST, 1. 84.

"I alone prepare

To struggle against pity, and to dare

A conflict."

DANTE'S INFERNO, Canto ii. 3.

It would not require any great amount of penetration on the part of the reader, to divine the business on which Fitzgerald somewhat abruptly took leave. Puffendoff had adroitly thrust into his hand the cheques received from Inglis; and it was expedient that value should be received for them without delay. It was nearing the time when the banks closed, and the Count had a prejudice in favour of having them cashed with all pos

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