"How do you do, Mr. Ruggles?" he began.

I bowed again, but speech failed me.

"She sent me over to get you," he went on. He uttered the word "She"
with such profound awe that I knew he could mean none other than Mrs.
Effie. It was most extraordinary, but I dare say only what was to have
been expected from persons of this sort. In any good-class club or
among gentlemen at large it is customary to allow one at least
twenty-four hours for the payment of one's gambling debts. Yet there I
was being collected by the winner at so early an hour as half-after
seven. If I had been a five-pound note instead of myself, I fancy it
would have been quite the same. These Americans would most indecently
have sent for their winnings before the Honourable George had
awakened. One would have thought they had expected him to refuse
payment of me after losing me the night before. How little they seemed
to realize that we were both intending to be dead sportsmen.

"Very good, sir," I said, "but I trust I may be allowed to brew the
Honourable George his tea before leaving? I'd hardly like to trust to
him alone with it, sir."

"Yes, sir," he said, so respectfully that it gave me an odd feeling.
"Take your time, Mr. Ruggles. I don't know as I am in any hurry on my
own account. It's only account of Her."

I trust it will be remembered that in reporting this person's speeches
I am making an earnest effort to set them down word for word in all
their terrific peculiarities. I mean to say, I would not be held
accountable for his phrasing, and if I corrected his speech, as of