Which, Being Somewhat Important, Is Consequently Short

"My dear fellow," said the Viscount, stifling a yawn beneath the
bedclothes, "you rise with the lark,--or should it be linnet? Anyhow,
you do, you know. So deuced early!"

"I am here early because I haven't been to bed, Dick."

"Ah, night mail? Dev'lish uncomfortable! Didn't think you'd come back
in such a deuce of a hurry, though!"

"But you wanted to see me, Dick, what is it?"

"Why,--egad, Bev, I'm afraid it's nothing much, after all.
It's that fellow Smivvle's fault, really."

"Smivvle?"

"Fellow actually called here yesterday--twice, Bev. Dev'lish
importunate fellow y'know. Wanted to see you,--deuced insistent
about it, too!"

"Why?"

"Well, from what I could make out, he seemed to think--sounds
ridiculous so early in the morning,--but he seemed to fancy you were
in some kind of--danger, Bev."

"How, Dick?"

"Well, when I told him he couldn't see you because you had driven
over to Hawkhurst, the fellow positively couldn't sit still--deuced
nervous, y'know,--though probably owing to drink. 'Hawkhurst!' says
he, staring at me as if I were a ghost, my dear fellow, 'yes,' says I,
'and the door's open, sir!' 'I see it is,' says he, sitting tight.
'But you must get him back!' 'Can't be done!' says I. 'Are you his
friend?' says he. 'I hope so,' says I. 'Then,' says he, before I
could remind him of the door again, 'then you must get him back--
at once!' I asked him why, but he only stared and shook his head,
and so took himself off. I'll own the fellow shook me rather, Bev,
--he seemed so very much in earnest, but, knowing where you were, I
wouldn't have disturbed you for the world if it hadn't been for the
horses."