Test Bank for Business Law The Ethical Global and E-

Commerce Environment 16th Edition by Mallor ISBN

0077733711 9780077733711
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Chapter 02

The Resolution of Private Disputes

True / False Questions

1. Minor criminal cases and civil disputes are decided in the appellate courts.

True False

2. The plaintiff can sue the defendant in whatever court, and in whatever locale that the plaintiff wishes.

True False

3. For a state trial court to have the power to decide a civil case, it must have in personam jurisdiction or in
rem jurisdiction.

True False
4. The assertion of specific in personam jurisdiction satisfies federal or state due process guarantees so long as
the defendant has sufficient "minimum contacts" with the forum state.

True False

5. In rem jurisdiction is based only on the fact that property of the defendant is located within the state.

True False

6. Generally, forum selection clauses in form agreements are unenforceable.

True False

7. In general, a court has venue if it is territorially fair and convenient for both parties to litigate the case in
that court.

True False

8. For federal district court diversity jurisdiction to exist, the amount in controversy must exceed $500,000.

True False

9. The doctrine of certiorari jurisdiction makes it mandatory for the U.S. Supreme Court to hear appeals from
federal and state courts.

True False

10. Brennan sues Melissa for breach of contract. In her reply, Melissa claims, among other things, that she
should not be liable as she only entered the contract because Brennan defrauded her. This assertion is called
an affirmative defense.

True False

11. The defendant must wait until after the pleadings have been completed before making a motion to dismiss.

True False

12. Interrogatories are a form of discovery requiring a party to file written answers to questions submitted to
that party.

True False

13. As in a criminal case, a defendant in a civil case may not be compelled by the plaintiff to testify.

True False

14. Normally, a motion for summary judgment requires that a court decide there are genuine questions of fact
and questions of law.

True False

15. The party successful in a civil lawsuit can seek to enforce a judgment by obtaining a writ of execution or by
garnishment.

True False
Multiple Choice Questions

16. What is a court's power to hear a case and to issue a decision binding on the parties called?

A. Jurisdiction
B. Prerogative
C. Venue
D. Assignment

17. A "long-arm" statute allows:

A. criminal courts jurisdiction over civil cases.

B. state courts more power than federal ones.
C. court's jurisdiction over out-of-state defendants.
D. appellate courts to hear new cases.

18. Calvin, a resident of South Park, Colorado, creates a website called "But Seriously" which acts as an
electronic billboard for posting funny stories. Ted, a resident of Northridge, California, posts a story on the
website. Stu, another California resident from San Diego, files a lawsuit against Calvin in a federal district
court in California, claiming that Calvin had defamed him on his website. Based on these facts, does Calvin
have sufficient "minimum contacts" to give the California federal district court in personam jurisdiction
over him?

A. No, Ted's posting alone is not enough to create sufficient "minimum contacts."
B. Yes, Ted's posting creates sufficient "minimum contacts."
C. Yes, by creating a website that is accessible in California, Calvin has sufficient minimum contacts with
that state.
D. Calvin has sufficient "minimum contacts" with California only if Stu's claim is in excess of $75,000.

19. Bubble Wrap Co. (BWC), an Atlanta corporation, has its principal place of business in New York. John, a
resident of Florida, asserted on his website that BWC is engaged in ongoing criminal activity, scams, and
phishing. BWC sued John in the U.S. District Court for the District of New York, alleging defamation and
injury to BWC's business in New York. John filed a motion to dismiss the case alleging that neither
subject-matter nor in personam jurisdiction existed. The court granted the defendant's motion and dismissed
the case because:

A. BWC could not meet its burden of establishing sufficient minimum contacts.
B. BWC did not have subject-matter jurisdiction.
C. BWC neither had subject-matter jurisdiction nor in personam jurisdiction.
D. publishing of those statements did not amount to defamation and thus no injury was caused to BWC's
business.
20. Jurisdiction based on the presence of property within the state is called jurisdiction.

A. in rem
B. personam
C. sui iuris
D. subject-matter

21. Jack, a resident of Texas, sued Jill, a resident of Kentucky, alleging breach of contract. Jack may attach
Jill's bank account in Kentucky to recover the amount of the judgment from the account, if his suit is
successful. This is an example of:

A. in rem jurisdiction.
B. in personam jurisdiction.
C. quasi in rem jurisdiction.
D. venue.

22. In general, a court has if it is a territorially fair and convenient forum in which to hear the case.

A. venue
B. original jurisdiction
C. limited jurisdiction
D. standing

23. Contracts sometimes contain a provision reciting that disputes between the parties regarding matters
connected with the contract must be litigated in the courts of a particular state. What is such a provision
called?

A. Choice of law clause

B. Forum selection clause
C. Substantive clause
D. Minimum contacts clause

24. Bob is a merchant in New York and Betty is a merchant in California. Bob wants to do business with Betty
but he is concerned that if a lawsuit should result from their transaction, he might have to travel to
California and hire a California litigation lawyer to litigate the dispute. What type of clause should Bob try
to include in his contract with Betty that will probably assure him that if litigation ensues, it will take place
in New York?

A. Confession of judgment clause

B. Forum selection clause
C. Choice of law clause
D. Substantive clause
25. Defending against a federal district court suit by Paul, Dan claims that Paul has sued him in the wrong
federal district court. Dan has raised a question of:

A. long-arm jurisdiction.
B. in personam jurisdiction.
C. venue.
D. standing.

26. Infobox Online, an Internet services provider, includes in its "clickwrap" contract a clause stating that
California courts have "exclusive jurisdiction" over subscribers' disputes with Infobox Online. This clause
will most likely be:

A. unenforceable because it was not the result of bargaining.

B. unenforceable against a subscriber in another state.
C. enforceable if the subscriber does not file a motion to dismiss.
D. enforceable if it is considered reasonable by a court.

27. For federal "diversity" jurisdiction to exist:

A. the case must begin in a federal court of appeals.

B. the amount in controversy must exceed $75,000.
C. both the plaintiff and the defendant must be citizens of the same state.
D. the case must pertain to the Constitution, laws, or treaties of the United States.

28. In federal courts, a corporation is:

A. a citizen of only the place where is has been incorporated.

B. a citizen of only it principal place of business.
C. a citizen of both its place of incorporation and the state where it has its principal place of business.
D. a citizen of that state which has enacted a "long-arm" statute and thus has jurisdiction.

29. jurisdiction exists when the case arises under the Constitution, laws, or treaties of the United States.

A. Original
B. Federal question
C. Diversity
D. Exclusive

30. Patent cases being litigated in the federal system are an example of:

A. concurrent jurisdiction.
B. original jurisdiction.
C. exclusive jurisdiction.
D. certiorari jurisdiction.
Another document from Scribd.com that is
random and unrelated content:
neighbours; off wi’ ye now—arl on ye. I bean’t a-goin’ t’ plead twice wi’
no one.”
Mr. Potter’s brow was smooth, guilelessness seemed to radiate and
beam from his person, but, seeing how the crowd forthwith scattered and
melted away, the burly young man betook himself off likewise,
muttering darkly.
Then Mr. Potter turned in his unhurried fashion to look at Sir John,
and the smile that lurked in the corners of his mouth slowly broadened.
“Young sir,” said he, touching his hat, “who you be or what, bean’t no
consarn o’ mine nohow, but, sir, you stood up for a old ’ooman as aren’t
got many to tak’ ’er part, d’ye see, an’ so ’ere’s Potter a-thankin’ of you
—an’ that is my business, I rackon.”
“Indeed, Mr. Potter, ’twould seem I have to thank you also, you—or
your coat——”
“Coat?” repeated Mr. Potter, glancing down at the garment in question
as if mildly surprised to behold it. “Aye, to be sure—’tis a old jacket as I
use in my trade, d’ye see——”
“A free-trade, I think?” added Sir John.
“Lor’ love ’ee, sir,” sighed Mr. Potter, opening his guileless eyes a
trifle wider, “doan’t ’ee tak’ no ’eed o’ what that theer young Simpson
says——”
“Mr. Potter,” quoth Sir John, smiling, “a week ago I was shaking
hands with Captain Sharkie Nye aboard the True Believer, and I should
like to shake yours.”
“What, be you the young gen’leman as crossed wi’ Sir Hector?”
“That same. And my name is Derwent.”
“Why, Mr. Derwent, sir, that du alter the case, I rackon. So theer be
Potter’s ’and, sir, and heartily! Ah, an’ yonder be old Penelope a-
beckonin’ ... her will curse we shameful if us du keep her waitin’ ... so
come ’long, sir.”
“Aye, come y’r ways, du—both on ye!” cried the old creature
imperiously. “’Tidn’t often I ’as comp’ny, so I’ll brew ye a dish o’ tay
——”
“Tea?” exclaimed Sir John.
 “Aye, all the way from Chaney, young man! Tay as costes forty
shillin’ a pound an’ more up to Lunnon—tak’ care o’ my old trug! This
way—down twitten!”
She led them down a narrow way between the walls of cottages and
gardens, and at last to a very small cottage indeed, a forlorn little
structure, its garden trampled, its broken window-panes stuffed with old
rags to exclude the elements, itself all dilapidation from rotting thatch to
crumbling doorstep.
“And is this your home?” cried Sir John, very much aghast.
“It be, young man. They bruk’ all my lattices months agone, an’ Mr.
Sturton won’t put in no more. The chimbley smokes an’ the thatch leaks
an’ I gets the ager bad, but it be my home an’ I love every brick. For
’twas here I were born, here I loved and lost, here I hoped to die, but
Maaster Sturton be fur turning o’ me out next month ... bean’t ’e, Jarge?”
“’E be,” answered Mr. Potter softly, “dang ’im!”
“Come in, young man, an’ you tu, Jarge—come in; it du be better-
lookin’ inside than out.” And indeed, once the door was shut—a
particularly stout and ponderous door, Sir John noticed—the small,
heavily beamed chamber was cosy and homelike, very orderly and clean,
from the polished copper kettle on the hob to the china ornaments upon
the mantel.
And now Mr. Potter reached a hand within the mysteries of the frieze
coat and drew thence a couple of plump rabbits.
“Found ’em s’marnin’, Pen,” he nodded. “An’ here,” he continued,
groping deeper within vast pocket, “’ere be a—no, that be wire ... ’ere—
no, that be ’baccy for ’Osea ... ah, ’ere be a lump o’ pork t’ go wi’ ’em,
Pen.”
“Thank’ee kindly, Jarge! An’ would ’ee moind a-skinnin’ of ’em
whiles I tidies myself up a bit?”
“Heartily, Pen.”
“An’ you, young man, poke up the fire an’ put on the kittle t’ bile ...
there be a pump in the yard.”
Having performed these duties, Sir John, seating himself on a bucket
beside the pump, watched Mr. Potter deftly operate upon the rabbits, and
there ensued the following conversation:
M .P : Stayin’ ’ereabouts, sir?
S J : At the ‘Dering Arms.’
M .P : Stayin’ long, sir?
S J : I hope so.
M .P : Why, so du I ... seein’ as you be known to Sharkie
an’ Sir ’Ector. And, besides, old Pen du ha’ took to ye fair
amazin’ ... an’ she’s an eye like a nawk ’as old Pen, aye,
sharp as a gimblet it be. An’ she’s took to ye, d’ye see, sir.
S J : I feel truly and deeply honoured.
M .P : Well, you stood up for ’er s’arternoon agin them
fules as meant mischief.
S J : She seems to have suffered more than her share.
M . P : Suffered? Sir, Potter be a peaceable man an’
bloodshed contrariwise to ’is natur’ ... no matter what you
’appen to hear ... but there be some folk as I’d tak’ a deal o’
j’y to skin, d’ye see, like this ’ere! (Mr. Potter held up a
newly skinned and pinkly nude rabbit.)
S J : Whom do you mean?
M . P : Ah! ’oo indeed, sir? Potter knows, but Potter’s
mum!
S J : And yet I think I could guess, if I tried.
M .P : Why, ye may guess, sir—this be a free country—
leastways, fules say so.
S J : One, I think, must be Mr. James Sturton. Am I right?
M .P : Why, as to that, sir, I answers plain and to the point
as there be nobody nowhere breathin’ as can get s’much
flavour into a jugged ’are ekal to old Pen—except Peter
Bunkle as keeps the ‘Cross’ over tu Alfriston.
S J : And the second is Lord Sayle. Am I wrong?
M .P : Why, as to that, sir, Potter don’t say nothing. Du ’ee
know Lord Sayle?
S J : I have met him.
M .P : Friend o’ yourn, sir?
S J : So much so that I have determined to drive him out of
the country, or kill him.
(Here Mr. Potter dropped the rabbit.)
M .P : Well ... love my limbs! Kill—hist! But ... but you,
sir? Axing your pardon, but you aren’t got the look of a
killer.
S J : Thank you, Mr. Potter, I rejoice to hear it.
M .P : But—ki—hist! He be pretty big and pretty fierce,
sir, an’ you, axing y’r pardon, ain’t exactly——
S J : An elephant or a tiger—and yet I feel myself perfectly
able to accomplish one or the other, Mr. Potter.
M .P : Well, love my eyes! He be a fightin’ man too, sir!
Somebody stuck a sword into him lately, I hear, but it didn’t
do no good; he be as well and ’earty as ever. Now if—hist!
(Here Mr. Potter paused, finger on lip, to glance stealthily
around.)
S J : If what, Mr. Potter?
M .P : (Drawing near and speaking in hushed voice) If you
be ... set on a-doin’ of it ... very determined on ... the deed,
sir, your best way is to—hist! A pistol ... no, a musket ...
some good dark night. Hist—Potter’s mum!
S J : You don’t love him, I think?
M . P : Love him? Well, there be things ’as ’appened
’ereabouts as no one can’t swear agin nobody, d’ye see, an’
yet ... old Pen knows more than she dare speak, I rackon, an’
Potter ain’t blind nor yet deaf.
S J : What kind of things?
M . P : Well, theer was poor Dick Hobden as went a-
walkin’ one evenin’ Windover way wi’ Lucy Price, a rare
handsome lass. Poor Dick were found stone dead next day,
but the lass vanished an’ nobody never seen her no more,
nor never will, I reckon.
 S J : Vanished?
M .P : Ay, like Mary Beal as disappeared and came back
and drownded of ’erself, pore lass. There was Ruth Wicks as
likewise vanished an’ was found weeks arterwards singin’ in
the dark atop o’ Windover ... died mad, she did. There was
other lasses as disappeared from Wilmington an’ Litlin’ton
an’ never come back.
S J : A hateful tale!
M .P : It be, sir.
S J : And whom do you suspect?
M .P : Mum for that, sir! But there be folk as Potter would
be j’yful to ’ave the skinnin’ of——
S J : You mean my Lord Sayle and Sturton——
M .P : Hist—sir! Speak soft! I don’t mean nothin’. Only
what one bids t’other obeys.... And now Lord Sayle swears
he’ll ruin all on us—every man an’ bye, ah, wumman, maid
an’ babe, not forgettin’ wives an’ widders.
S J : How so?
M .P : He’s took an oath to put down “the trade,” d’ye see.
Potter be a inoffensive creater’ as never drawed steel in his
life—except mebbe now and then—I prefers a short bat ...
and never fired a shot in all my days—except p’r’aps once
or twice an’ then only when com-pelled.... Ah, a peaceable
man be Potter, but....

Here Mr. Potter laid finger to lip and looked slantwise at Sir John
beneath lifted eyebrow. And then old Penelope called them; and,
glancing round, Sir John was amazed to behold her clad in a sumptuous
gown whose voluminous silken folds lent her a strangely arresting
dignity, while upon her snowy hair was a mob cap marvellously belaced.
“Aye, it be real silk, young man!” quoth she, with a little shake in her
voice. “List to it rustle!” And sighing ecstatically, she spread out the rich
folds with her gnarled old fingers. “There bean’t a grander dress
nowhere.... Jarge give it me las’ Christmas. ’Tidn’t often I wears it, no ...
but when I die, I’ll be buried in it—won’t I, Jarge?”
 “Aye, aye, Pen!” nodded Mr. Potter. “But, Lord—’oo’s a-talkin’ o’
dyin’! Be the kittle abilin’?”
“Aye, lad, tea’s ready. As for you, young man, if you’ll drink wi’ me
as they name witch, an’ bean’t fruttened lest I blast ’ee wi’ a look o’ my
eye—come your ways to tea.”
Following her into the cottage, Sir John beheld yet other unexpected
wonders, as the handleless cups of exquisite ware, the beautiful Chinese
teapot, the tray of priceless Chinese lacquer.
“Aha, you may stare, young man!” nodded old Penelope. “There
bean’t a lady in arl the land can show ’ee sech chaney as mine.... Jarge
give it tu me!”
“Why, ye see, sir,” added Mr. Potter apologetically, “I bean’t married!”
“An’ look at the lace in my cap, young man ... real French point—arl
from Jarge.”
“Why, ye see, sir,” quoth Mr. Potter again, “I aren’t got no
sweet’eart!”
And thus Sir John Dering, sitting between old Penelope Haryott the
witch, and Mr. George Potter the guileless, drank smuggled tea out of
smuggled china, talked and listened, asked questions and answered them,
and enjoyed it all uncommonly well.
 CHAPTER XVI
DESCRIBES A SCANDALOUS ITEM OF FASHIONABLE
INTELLIGENCE AND THE CONSEQUENCES
THEREOF

“The Barrasdaile” was back in town and all the beaux of Mayfair were
agog, and forthwith hasted to give her welcome. They came by coach, in
sedan chairs, on horseback and afoot; battered beaux wise in wine and
women, sprightly beaux wise in town gossip and the latest mode,
youthful beaux wise in nothing as yet; but one and all they gathered from
every point of the compass and clad in all the colours of the spectrum,
passioning for her wealth, eager for her rank, allured by her youth, or
smitten by her beauty, agreeable to their own respective ages and
conditions; they came to flourish hats gracefully, shoot ruffles languidly,
flutter handkerchiefs daintily, tap snuff-boxes dreamily, to stare, ogle,
smile, frown, sigh and languish, each according to his nature. And chief
amongst these, my Lord Sayle, more completely assured of himself than
usual, if it were possible; and this by reason that His Majesty (so gossip
had it) was about to reinstate him in the royal favour and make him
Lord-Lieutenant of his county besides, on condition that he put down the
damnable practice of smuggling in his neighbourhood. Be this as it may,
it was an indisputable fact (rumour was positive on this point) that His
Majesty had received him, deigned him a nod, and chattered at him in
German, whereupon other gentlemen immediately bowed to him,
renewed acquaintance and congratulated him in English. Thus my Lord
Sayle found himself in very excellent spirits.
Now upon the very morning of my Lady Barrasdaile’s so triumphant
return, it befell that The Satyric Spy, or Polite Monitor, most scandalous
and (consequently) most carefully perused of journals, came out with the
following items of fashionable intelligence:

L H——a B——e, whose sudden and inexplicable

desertion so lately made of Mayfair a dreary waste, hath been
seen driving post for Paris. Paris doubtless awaited her with
yearning expectation, but yearned vainly. For, upon the highway
this bewitching she (mirabile dictu) vanished utterly away. Paris
received her not, Dieppe knew her not! Whither she vanished, by
what means, to what end, at what precise minute of the day or
night, or precisely where this astounding disappearance took
place, these be questions answerable but by her bewitching self.
B
It is furthermore credibly reported that Sir J——n D——g,
whose triumphs in the P F have made him
and the of lesser humans not so fortunate, left
Paris abruptly two or three days ago, and hath been observed in
company with a pretty - ,a -
whose humble situation in life is completely off-set by the
potency of her peerless charms. Sir J——n D——g, quick to
recognise the goddess despite her , is become her very
devoted slave and adorer. It is thought that he may carry her
eventually London-wards to out-rival the unrivalled
B .
Nota Bene: He that runs may read! Who seeth through a brick
wall cannot be blind. Yet whoso addeth two and two and maketh
of them five must be a bad arithmetician. Verl. Sap.

T W S : AL L L

Sir J——n D——g who in smug world censorious

Hath, wooing, won himself a fame notorious.
E’en from one scene of triumphs late hath flown
Triumphant still, since flees he not alone;
But with him (let not Scandal from Truth blench)
Doth bear away a - ,
A wench of wenches she (come aid me, Muse,
And teach me what just synonyms to use!)
A wench, a maid, a nymph, nay, goddess rather,
Though smutty chimney-sweep perchance her father!
Thus hath Sir J——n the latest fashion showed
And mating so, made serving-maids the mode!
Ye sprightlies proud! Ye high-born dames despair,
Weep pearly tears and rend your powdered hair.
Forgo that fond, that secret-cherished hope
 That ye yourselves might, one day, thus elope:
Since F and Sir J——n do both decree
No may, except a she be!

Mayfair was powerfully and profoundly stirred: elegant gentlemen,

having perused these extracts from The Polite Monitor hurriedly to
themselves, forthwith hasted to read them aloud, and with due
deliberation, to all who would listen; they were the main topic of
discussion in every fashionable club and coffee-house. Fine ladies, old
and young, becked and nodded over their Bohea, etc., lifted censorious
eyebrows, whispered behind their fans, and, learning my lady was in
town, promptly ordered coach or chair and were borne incontinent to my
lady’s house in St. James’s Square, each and every armed with a copy of
The Polite Monitor, and all eager to pour oil on the flames as lovingly as
possible.
Meanwhile, Herminia, Lady Barrasdaile, that spoiled child of fortune,
having sworn at her meek maid and snubbed her doting Aunt Lucinda
into angry revolt, sat scowling at the reflection of her beauteous self in
the mirror, with this same scandalous “hateful” journal crumpled in
passionate fist.
“O mem,” wailed the faithful Betty, “if you’d only took my advice
——”
“Hold your tongue, creature!”
“Yes, my lady! But if you’d only not run away——”
“Peace, devilish female!”
“Yes, mem! But I told you how ’twould——”
Here my lady launched a hairbrush, whereat Betty squealed and
vanished.
“Thou’rt so wild, Herminia!” exclaimed her diminutive aunt—“so
woefully, wilfully wild! Such a masterful madcap like thy poor father
before thee!”
“Would he were alive this day to ... cram this hateful thing down
somebody’s throat!” cried my lady, hurling The Polite Monitor to the
floor and stamping on it.
 “Aye, but whose throat, child? ’Tis what all the world will be asking—
whose?”
“Whose, indeed!” repeated my lady between white teeth. “Let me but
find him—let me but be sure!”
“Heavens, Herminia!—and what then?”
“Then, if I could find no better champion, I’d ... thrash or fight him
myself!”
“Cease, child, cease! Remit thy ravings; ’tis merest madness! Horrors,
Herminia, how——”
“O Aunt Lucy, a Gad’s name cease gasping out alliterations on me—
do!”
“Fie, miss! And you with your profane oaths and vulgar swearing
indeed! Look at ye, with your great, strong body and hugeous powerful
limbs! I protest thou’rt positively——”
“Aunt, dare to call me ‘strapping’ or ‘buxom’ and I’ll set you atop of
the armoire yonder!”
“Nothing so feminine, Herminia!” retorted her very small aunt, with
the utmost courage. “Brawny’s the word! Thou’rt positively brawny, a
brawn——” Here a pantherine leap, a muffled scream, and my lady’s
aunt, clasped in my lady’s arms, was whirled to the top of a tall press in
adjacent corner, there to dangle two very small and pretty feet helplessly,
to clutch and cower and whimper to be taken down.
“’Faith, aunt,” quoth my lady, “to see you so, none would ever believe
you were a duchess and so great a lady.”
“And I don’t feel like one!” wailed the Duchess miserably. “How can
I? O Herminia ... child ... my dear, prithee take me down. If I fall——”
“You won’t fall, dear aunt—you never do!”
“I nearly did last time, minx!”
“Because you wriggled, aunt.”
“I’ll ha’ this hateful thing destroyed!” cried the Duchess, striking the
huge piece of furniture with a ridiculously small, white hand.
“Then I shall buy a bigger!” quoth my lady.
“Then I’ll leave thee, thou vixenish child!”
 “But you’d come back to me, thou dear little loved aunt.”
“Aye, I should, thou great amiable wretch. Now pray lift me down like
the sweet, gentle soul thou art, Herminia.”
“Am I brawny, aunt?”
“Thou’rt a fairy elf! Take me down, child.”
“As for fighting, aunt——”
“Thou couldst not, wouldst not, thou’rt too maidenly, too tender, too
gentle ... take me down!”
“But indeed, aunt, you know I can fence better than most men—aye,
as well as Sir John Dering himself, I’ll wager.”
“That wretch! Pray lift me down, Herminia, dear.”
“’Faith, aunt, perched so, you look like a girl o’ fifteen!”
“And I’m woman of forty-five——”
“With scarce a white hair and never a wrinkle!”
“Indeed, child, I can feel ’em growing as I sit here, so prithee, my
sweet love, lift me——”
But at this moment was a hurried knock and Mrs. Betty entered,
cheeks flushed and mild eyes wider than usual.
“O my lady!” she exclaimed—“Company!”
“Betty,” cried the Duchess, “come and take me down—this moment!”
“Oh, I dessent, your Grace.... O mem, there be company below ...
ladies, mem—crowds, and gentlemen!”
“Ah!” cried my lady between clenched teeth, “so they’re here already
—to tear and rend me, dammem!”
“Herminia!” cried the Duchess, scandalised. “Herminia, fie! Herminia,
for shame! I gasp, child! Such language, miss——”
“Fits the occasion, aunt, so tush—and hush! Who’s below, Betty—the
women, I mean?”
“Well, mem, I only got a glimp’, but I ’spied my Lady Belinda
Chalmers for one——”
“That detestable rattle! Who else?”
 “My Lady Prudence Bassett was with her, mem.”
“That backbiting vixen! And Mrs. Joyce Mildmay is with ’em, I’ll
vow?”
“Yes, mem——”
“’Tis this devilish Monitor hath brought ’em upon me, and they’re
here to condole with me—the wretches!”
“But I’m with ye, child!” quoth the Duchess from her lofty perch,
whence my lady hasted to lift her forthwith, holding her suspended in
mid-air a moment to kiss her furiously ere she set her gently down.
“God bless you, aunt, for a sweet, kind little soul! But I’ll not see ’em
—yes, I will, and you shall come too! Yet no,” sighed my lady, “no,
’twere better I front their claws alone—the cats. Come you to my rescue
should they inflict themselves on me too long, dearest.” And having,
with Mrs. Betty’s deft aid, smoothed her silks and laces, having patted
and pulled at rebellious curls, my lady descended the broad stair and
swept into the great reception-room, where a group of chattering ladies
rose with one accord, chattering fond epithets, to embrace her, kiss,
fondle and stare at her with eyes that took in for future reference every
item of her apparel, every gesture, glance and flicker of her eyelash.
“My dearest Herminia, welcome back to town!” cried Lady Belinda,
with a pouncing kiss. “How vastly well you’re looking ... though a little
worn, of course ... a trifle pale, my love!”
“Pale, indeed!” sighed Lady Prudence, “and small wonder, my sweet
soul, for who would not look pale and haggard under the
circumstances?”
“And such circumstances, Herminia love!” gasped Mistress Joyce,
shuddering and turning up her large blue eyes soulfully. “To think thy
fair, unblemished name should be even remotely associated with that—
that monster, Sir John Dering! My heart bleeds for thee, thou poor,
injured dear!” At this, every other lady sighed also and shuddered in
unanimous horror, while the gentlemen scowled, nodded, rapped snuff-
boxes loudly, snuffed ferociously and voiced their sentiments of
indignant abhorrence.
“A dem’d, lying scandal, by heaven!” exclaimed Lord Verrian.
“A dooced scandalous lie, on my soul!” ejaculated Mr. Prescott.
 “Such infernal, audacious, dem’d impertinence should not be
permitted for a dem’d moment, by Gad!” quavered fierce old Lord
Aldbourne.
“Paper should be publicly burned!” quoth Captain Armitage.
“And the impudent editor-fellow instantly hanged!” added my Lord
Sayle fiercely, while divers other gentlemen said much the same and
quite as ferociously.
“You are alluding to the report in The Monitor, I think?” inquired my
lady serenely.
“Indeed, yes, my dearest!” answered Lady Belinda languishing. “To
the—the scandalous notice concerning you, my love, and that—that
infamous Dering creature! Needless to say, dear Herminia, we are all
positively sure that ’tis basely false—a most wicked invention not
worthy a moment’s credit, though, to be sure—you was in France very
lately, my sweet soul, was you not?”
“Yes, dear Herminia,” sighed Lady Prudence, “and Mr. Scarsdale here
assures us that he met and spoke with Sir John Dering on the road
between Dieppe and Paris! Is it not so, sir?”
“Beyond all question, ladies!” answered Mr. Scarsdale, stepping
forward and bowing with a flourish. “Not only did I see Sir John, but
conversed with him——”
“Eh—eh?” cried old Lord Aldbourne pettishly, curving talon-like
fingers about his ear. “Eh, sir—cursed with him, d’ye say? What about,
pray?”
“I said ‘conversed,’ my lord,” answered Mr. Scarsdale, flushing a
little.
“Then dammit, sir, speak up, sir!” commanded his ancient lordship.
“Be good enough to remember that my dem’d ears are not so young as
they were!”
“As I was saying,” pursued Mr. Scarsdale, making the most of the
occasion, “I met Sir John Dering by chance at a wayside inn, not twenty
miles from Paris, and had some conversation with him.”
“Why then, sir,” quoth my lady, “’tis like you saw this ‘wench,’ this
‘nymph,’ this ‘goddess in homespun’?”
 “Egad, my lady,” smirked Mr. Scarsdale, “now you mention it, I did
——”
“Hid?” cried Lord Aldbourne. “What did ye hide for, sir, and where?”
“My lord, I say that I caught a brief glimpse of Sir John Dering’s
‘buxom wench’!”
“Oh, rat me, but did ye so, Scarsdale?” piped Mr. Prescott. “And was
she handsome indeed—come?”
“Let me parish, sir, if she wasn’t!” cried Mr. Scarsdale, ecstatic. “A
magnificent crayture, on my life! A plum, sir, a glorious piece——”
“We believe you, sir!” quoth Captain Armitage. “Dering ever had an
infallible eye, a most exact judgment!”
“And pray, sir, what was she like?” demanded my lady, rising and
approaching the speaker. “Be very particular. Was she dark or fair? And
her features ... her face, sir, was it round or oval——”
“She was dark, my lady, dark as night!” answered Mr. Scarsdale. “As
to her face ... her face, my lady....” Here, meeting my lady’s glance, he
faltered suddenly, his eyes opened wider, his heavy mouth gaped slightly,
and he seemed to experience some difficulty with his breath.
“Well, sir!” demanded my lady. “What was she like?”
“She was ... very beautiful ... beyond description ...” mumbled Mr.
Scarsdale, heedless of Lord Aldbourne’s vociferous demands that he
would “speak up and be dem’d!”
“Was I there?” questioned my lady relentlessly.
“No, no ... no, indeed, madam.”
“And yet you saw me!” She laughed scornfully and turned her back
upon his pitiable discomfiture. “For, O dear friends,” she cried, “dear my
loving friends, for once our Monitor doth not lie! Aye, indeed, ’tis all
true—every word on’t. I was the serving-wench Mr. Scarsdale was so
kind to favour with his notice—’tis all true!”
“Heaven save us!” ejaculated Lady Belinda faintly, then uttered a
stifled scream and closed her eyes. “I sink!” she gasped. “I swoon! O my
poor Herminia, beware! Think, mem, think what you are saying! Oh, I
am shocked.... ’Tis dreadful!”
 But here my lady laughed joyously, while all watched her in more or
less scandalised amaze—all save Mr. Scarsdale, who was mopping damp
brow in corner remote.
Her merriment subsiding, my lady arose and, standing before them,
proud head aloft, told her tale.
“Some of you know that I have long entertained the deepest animosity
against Sir John Dering, and with just cause——”
“We did!” quoth Lady Belinda, tossing her head.
“We do, madam!” answered Captain Armitage gravely.
“And most of you are, I think, acquainted with that impetuous boy,
Viscount Templemore, who, inspired by some rash word of mine
concerning Sir John Dering, started for Paris with some wild notion of
becoming my champion and forcing Sir John to fight him. Hearing of
this madness, I set off in immediate pursuit, but my coach broke down
and, thus delayed, and to while away a dreary hour, I wrapped myself in
my maid’s cloak and walked out to watch the moon rise, and thus, by the
merest chance, met Sir John himself, who, it seemed, had left Paris ere
the duel could take place. All of you, I think, are aware of Sir John’s
overweening pride and arrogance, and I determined to make this
fortuitous meeting a means of humbling his pride and trampling his lofty
self-esteem in the dust. Judge now if I have succeeded or no! Sir John
mistook me for a serving-maid, whereupon I acted the part of shy,
country simpleton to such perfection—Mr. Scarsdale saw me in the part,
you’ll remember, and was equally deceived—were you not, Mr.
Scarsdale?”
But that gentleman had softly and discreetly taken his departure.
“Well, dear my friends, the end of it was, I very soon had Sir John
sighing and languishing to such degree that I ran away with him——”
“Madam!” exclaimed Lady Belinda.
“O heavens!” gasped Lady Prudence.
“Until he thought me safe, and then—I ran away from him—left him,
with a flea in his ear, disconsolate—to mourn and seek his shy, humble,
rustical wench as he is doubtless doing at this very moment——”
“Tee-hee!” laughed ancient Lord Aldbourne, slapping feeble knee
with veinous hand. “Dering—that terror o’ husbands! Hee-he! Oh, sink
me! Jilted, bilked and made a dem’d, everlasting fool of by a serving-
wench! Oh, split me!” And my lord laughed until he choked, and would
have rolled to the floor but for the Captain’s ready arm.
And now, as she turned, my lady found my Lord Sayle beside her.
“By heaven, madam,” he exclaimed, his assurance no whit abated, “I
protest ’twas marvellous well done, egad! We entertained an angel
unawares; ’twas your divine self that honoured us, after all, then.”
“Indeed, sir!” she retorted in fierce scorn, “and ’twas your base self
that I scorned then, as I do now—and ever shall!” And she left him to
scowl after her while the room buzzed with talk and laughter.
“That Dering, of all men, should be so flammed! O monstrous rich!”
“When this gets round ... alas, poor Sir John! Ha, ha!”
“Poor Dering ... every coffee-house in town will ring with the tale!”
“He will never dare show his face in London after this!” etc. etc., until
the long room echoed again.
Then the tall, folding doors were opened almost unnoticed, and a
gorgeous menial solemnly announced:
“Sir John Dering!”
 CHAPTER XVII
HOW SIR JOHN DERING CAME BACK TO MAYFAIR

For a moment, it seemed, none spoke or moved; all faces turned

towards the slender, elegant figure on the threshold, where stood Sir
John, his most exquisite self. Thus he entered amid a strange hush, a
silence broken only by the tap of his high-heeled shoes; and, aware of the
many staring eyes, saw only those of her who stood drawn to her noble
height, in all the dignity of laces and brocade; and, very conscious of the
latent hostility all about him, advanced down the long room with a
leisured ease, apparently totally unconscious of all save my lady and his
serene and placid self.
Haughty and unbending she stood to meet him, with no smile of
greeting, no hand to welcome him. Thus his bow was of the deepest and
his voice of the gentlest when he spoke.
“My Lady Barrasdaile, this is a moment I have oft dreamed on, and,
by my soul, madam, now that I see you at last, your face and form
remind me powerfully of one whom I found—and have lost awhile! My
lady, behold your most faithful, obedient, grateful servant!”
For a long moment she viewed him with a vague disquiet, then, as she
thus hesitated, the doors were thrown wide to admit the diminutive
Duchess, very dignified as became her rank, and mounted upon a pair of
extremely high-heeled shoes; at whose advent went up a murmur of
polite salutation, backs were dutifully bent, handkerchiefs fluttered, and
gowns billowed to elaborate curtsys; in the midst of which my lady
spoke:
“Dear aunt, you come pat to the occasion as usual! Permit me to
present to you Sir John Dering. Sir John, the Duchess of Connington!”
A moment of utter stillness—a dramatic moment wherein noble
gentlemen gazed dumbly expectant and fair ladies thrilled and palpitated
in delightful suspense while the Duchess, that small yet potent arbiter,
scrutinised Sir John in silent appraisement; at last, smiling, she reached
forth her hand.
 “Welcome to town, Sir John!” said she as he bowed low above her
very small fingers.
Gentlemen breathed again, ladies fanned themselves and chattered; the
fiat had gone forth: Her Grace of Connington had received the “dreadful
creature,” who consequently could not be too dreadful for Mayfair.
Thus Sir John was duly presented to ladies who blushed and simpered,
drooped tremulous lashes, languished soulfully or frowned austerely
according to which best became her particular type of beauty; and to
gentlemen who bowed and protested themselves his devoted, humble,
etc., until he found himself confronted by one, a fierce-eyed gentleman
with one arm in a sling, this, who surveyed him from head to foot with
an expression of arrogant contempt.
“Sir John Dering, is it,” he demanded, “or Mr. Derwent—which?”
“You may have your choice, sir,” answered Sir John pleasantly, “for
each of ’em is equally at your service the moment you feel yourself
sufficiently recovered, my lord!” And Sir John made to pass on, but Lord
Sayle interposed, his air more threatening than ever. Quoth he:
“Sir John Dering, or Derwent, or whatever name you happen to be
using—last time we met, sir——”
“To be sure,” smiled Sir John amiably, “I advised your lordship to take
fencing lessons——”
“Tee-hee!” screeched old Lord Aldbourne suddenly. “Hee-ha! Fencing
lessons! Oh, smite me!”
Sir John slipped nimbly aside just in time to escape my Lord Sayle’s
passionate fist; then the two were borne apart amid an indignant whirl of
embroidered coat-skirts.
“Shame, my lord, shame!” cried half a dozen voices, while ladies
screamed, moaned, grew hysterical, and made instant preparation to
swoon in their most becoming attitudes.
“O Ged!” screeched Lord Aldbourne above the hubbub, “I never saw
such a dem’d disgraceful exhibition in all my dem’d life! Sayle, you
must be mad or dem’d drunk, sir ... in a ladies’ drawing-room full o’ the
dear creeters ... oh, dem!” And then, high-pitched, cold and merciless
rose my lady’s voice.
 “My Lord Sayle, pray have the goodness to retire. Your manners are
better suited to your country taverns. Begone, sir, ere I summon my
servants!”
In the awful silence that ensued, my Lord Sayle stared vaguely about
him like one stupefied with amazement, then, striding to the open door,
he stood striving for coherent speech, and when at last utterance came,
he stammered thickly:
“You ... you shall regret ... bitterly ... bitterly! Aye, let me perish but
you shall!” Then, flinging up his uninjured arm in passionate menace, he
turned and was gone.
 CHAPTER XVIII
HOW SIR JOHN DERING WENT A-WOOING

My Lord Sayle’s abrupt departure sufficed to break up the assembly;

my lords and ladies having been very delightfully amused, interested,
thrilled and shocked by the varied incidents of the last crowded hour,
hasted to be gone, eager to recapitulate the whole story (with numerous
additions, to be sure) to the astounded ears of those unfortunates who
had missed so singular an occasion.
Thus, while my lady bade adieu to her guests (each and all more her
doting friends and obedient humble servants than ever), Sir John
presently found himself alone with the Duchess in a curtained alcove,
and stooping, took her so small hand ere she was aware to kiss it with
such reverence that she actually flushed.
“O heavens, sir!” she exclaimed. “Pray, why so—so infinite
impressive?”
“Madam,” he answered gravely, “despite the evil that is told of me,
with more or less truth, alas, you were generous! Having the power to
abase me, you mercifully chose to lift me up. Pray believe that my
gratitude is yours, now and ever!”
“Indeed,” said she, noting his earnest face, “you are strangely unlike
the Sir John Dering I anticipated. Your—your reputation, sir——”
“Aye, my reputation!” he repeated wearily. “’Faith, madam,’tis my
incubus that hath me in a strangle-gripe. For years I have endured it with
a fool’s content, but now when I would be rid on’t I may not. ’Tis a
haunting shadow, a demon mocking my best endeavours. Evil is
naturally expected of me, virtue—never. Indeed, you behold in me the
poor victim of a relentless fate——”
“Fate, sir?” cried a scornful voice, and my Lady Herminia stepped into
the alcove.
“Even so, madam!” he answered, rising to bow.
“Heaven preserve us!” she exclaimed. “Do you dare put the onus of
your own misdemeanours upon Fate?”
 “Nay, then,” he answered, “let us call it Fortune, madame, since
Fortune is—feminine, and esteemed ever a fickle jade!”
“So, sir, having contrived yourself an evil notoriety, you would turn
cynic and rail upon Fate, it seems!”
“Nay, madam, cursed by cruel Fortune, I am become a Man o’
Sentiment and find in simple things the great and good content: the
carolling bird, the springing flower, the rippling brook, these have
charms the which——”
“Tush, sir, you grow lyrical, which becometh you most vilely.”
“Fie, Herminia!” cried the Duchess. “Hold thy teasing tongue, miss.
Sir John is right, indeed—I myself love to hear the carolling brook—I
mean the rippling bird—— There, see how you ha’ fluttered me! Sit
down, Herminia—do! And you, Sir John! Be seated—both o’ you,
instead of standing to stare on each other like—like two fond fools
foolishly fond! So! Now, surely, Sir John, a man’s reputation is his own,
to make or mar?”
“Nay, ’faith, your Grace, doth not a man’s reputation make or mar
him, rather? And whence cometh reputation but of our friends and
enemies who judge us accordingly. So the world knows us but as they
report. Thus, he or she that would be held immaculate should consort
solely with dogs or horses that ha’ not the curse of speech.”
Here my lady sighed wearily and began to tap with impatient foot.
“Herminia, hush!” exclaimed the Duchess. “Hush and flap not
fidgeting foot, miss. How think you of Sir John’s argument?”
“I think, aunt, that Sir John, according to Sir John, doth make of Sir
John a creature so unjustly defamed that one might look to see Sir John
sprout wings to waft good Sir John from this so wicked world. And pray,
Sir John, may we ask to what we owe the unexpected honour of your
presence here?”
“Alas, madam,” he sighed, “to what but matrimony! I am here in the
matter of marriage.”
The Duchess gasped and strove to rise, but her niece’s compelling
hand restrained her.
“Pray, sir, whose marriage?”
 “My own, madam. You behold me ready to wed you how, when and
where you will.”
“Oh, then,” quavered the Duchess, “oh, pray, sir, ere you continue—
I’ll begone.... Herminia, suffer me to rise——”
“Nay, dear aunt, rather shall you suffer along with me——”
“Loose me, love!” implored the Duchess. “Unhand me, Herminia; I
will not remain.... I cannot—so awkward for Sir John ... for me! Oh,
horrors, Herminia!”
“Horrors indeed, dear aunt, but we’ll bear ’em together.”
“But—O child! A proposal—and I here! So indelicate! I’m all of a
twitter, I vow!”
“So am I, aunt. So shalt thou sit here with me and hear Sir John’s
comedy out, poor though it be. And Sir John ever performs better with an
audience, I’ll vow!”
“O sir,” wailed the little Duchess helplessly, “you see how I’m
constrained! Herminia is so—so strapping and strong! I may not stir,
indeed!”
“Aunt!”
“And brutishly brawny, sir.”
“Aunt Lucinda!”
“Ha!” exclaimed Sir John. “A most excellent phrase, your Grace!”
And out came his memorandum forthwith. “‘Bewitching but brutishly
brawny is she!’ Here is metre with an alliterative descriptiveness very
delightfully arresting! And now, mesdames, I am hither come most
solemnly to sue the hand of my Lady Barrasdaile in marriage——”
“Then,” she retorted angrily, “all things considered, sir, I demand to
know how you dare?”
“Not lightly, madam, believe me,” he answered gravely; “but
matrimony no longer daunts me. Having made up my mind to’t, I am
ready to face it undismayed, to endure unflinching——”
“Sir, you insult me!”
“Madam, if I do, you are the first and only woman I have so insulted.”
“Remember the past, sir—its horrors——”
 “Think of the future, madam, its joys. As my wife——”
“Heaven save and deliver me, sir!” she exclaimed scornfully. “Do you
for one moment imagine I would contemplate a situation so extreme
horrid?”
“But indeed, my lady, despite what the cynics say, marriage hath much
to commend it. More especially a union ’twixt you and me, our natures
being so extreme the opposite of each other.”
“That, indeed, is true, I thank heaven!” she nodded.
“Alas, yes, my lady. You being of a somewhat violent, shall we say—
ungovernable temper——”
“Too tragically true!” murmured the Duchess behind her fan.
“Aunt, pray be silent!”
“The armoire, child!”
“Do not distract me, aunt. Sir, you are an insolent impertinent!”
“But of a nature serenely calm, madam, to temper your excessive
cholers. Indeed, we are each other’s opposites, for whiles you are
something ungentle, very headstrong, extreme capricious and vastly
vindictive, I am——”
“Utterly detestable, sir!” she cried indignantly. “Enough—enough!
Good Gad! must I sit and hear you thus abuse me? Forbid it, heaven! Is it
not enough affliction that my name should be coupled with yours in the
scandalous columns of an infamous journal?”
“Can you possibly mean The Polite Monitor, madam?” he sighed.
“What else, sir? And you ha’ read the hateful thing as a matter of
course!”
“No, my lady. I wrote it.”
“You, Sir John!” exclaimed the Duchess.
“You—’twas you?” cried my lady.
“Myself!” quoth Sir John. “’Twas writ in haste and hath small merit, I
fear, and little to commend it, but such as ’tis——”
“Commend it!” cried my lady. “Commend it! Oh, this is too much;
you are insufferable! Sir John Dering, you weary me; you may retire!”
And magnificently disdainful, she arose.
 Sir John’s bow was Humility manifest.
“Madam,” sighed he, “I am now as ever your ladyship’s most
obedient, humble servant. I go—yet first o’ your mercy and in justice to
myself, pray tell us when ’twill be?”
“What, sir, in heaven’s name?”
“Our wedding. When will you marry me, Herminia?”
“Never—oh, never!” she cried passionately. “I had rather die first!”
“Alas, Herminia, for your so passionate refusal!” he mourned. “Tush,
my lady, for your choice o’ death! And for thy so arrogant, unruly self—
fare thee well. So must I to the country there to seek my Rose.... O Rose
o’ love, my fragrant Rose.... God keep thee, my Lady Herminia, and
teach thee more of gentleness. Duchess, most generous of women—
adieu!”
So saying, Sir John bowed, and, wistful and despondent, took his
departure.
“Aunt,” cried her ladyship, when they were alone, “in heaven’s name,
why did you?”
“Why did I what, miss?”
“Receive that—that—man?”
“Perhaps because he—is a man, Herminia. Perhaps because he is the
man to mould and master you. Perhaps because of his wistful,
wondering, woman’s eyes. Perhaps because you—wished me to—ha!
Why must ye blush, child, pink as a peony, I vow?”
 CHAPTER XIX
TELLS HOW SIR JOHN WENT “BEAR-BAITING”

From St. James’s Square Sir John directed his chair to an address in
Mount Street, and was so fortunate as to meet Captain Armitage stepping
forth to take the air; hereupon they flourished their hats at each other,
bowed, and thereafter stood at gaze.
“Armitage,” quoth Sir John, “time worketh change and five years is a
long time!”
“Dering,” answered the Captain, with his pleasant smile, “five years
shall be as many hours—minutes, if ye’ll have it so!”
“Tommy!” exclaimed Sir John, and held out his hand.
“Jack!” exclaimed the Captain, and shook it heartily. “’S life!” cried
he. “’S death! Egad!... ’od rat me but this is infinite well, upon my soul it
is! Are ye home for good?”
“I hope so, Tom.” Then, having paid his chairmen, Sir John slipped a
hand within the Captain’s arm and they walked on together.
“Tom,” said he, gently interrupting his companion’s joyous
reminiscences of their schoolboy escapades and later follies—“Tommy,
art minded for a little gentle sport?”
“Anything ye will, Jack,” answered the Captain eagerly, “for, demme,
the town’s dead at this hour ... a curst dog-hole, rat me! Say the word and
I’m yours. What’s to do?”
“Bear-baiting, Tom.”
“Hey? Bear-baiting? What the——”
“D’ye happen to know which particular coffee-house my Lord Sayle
affects?”
“Eh—Sayle?” repeated the Captain, halting suddenly. “Sayle, is it?
Oh, demme! D’ye mean——”
“My Lord Sayle!” nodded Sir John.
 “But ... bear-baiting, Jack? O man, Lord love ye, ’tis pure to ha’ ye
back; the town’s alive again, or will be, burn me if ’twon’t! Sayle, eh? So
soon, Jack! Egad, ’tis like ye!... Bear-baiting. Oh, demme!” And the
Captain halted again to laugh.
“And which coffee-house, Tom——”
“Why, y’ see, Jack, the fellow’s not dared show his face in town o’
late in consequence o’ that last ‘affair’ of his with poor young Torwood
... but ... I remember him at Will’s, last year, aye, and Lockett’s.”
To Will’s coffee-house accordingly they directed their steps, and here,
as luck would have it, found the unconscious object of their quest.
My Lord Sayle was in a corner of the long room, his back to the door
and surrounded by gentlemen who sipped their various beverages,
snuffed or sucked at their long, clay pipes, while drawers hovered
silently to and fro, obedient to their commands; thus Sir John and the
Captain entered almost unnoticed, and, securing an adjacent table, Sir
John ordered a bottle of burgundy.
“Burgundy—O Ged!” demurred the Captain.
“You shan’t drink it, Tom!” murmured Sir John.
My Lord Sayle, as one who had more than once killed “his man,” and
was, moreover, reputed to be in high favour at court just at present, was
assured of a respectfully attentive audience wheresoever he went.
Behold him, then, the room being oppressively warm, ensconced
beside an open window and seated between his inseparable companions,
Sir Roland Lingley, slim and pallid, and Major Orme, red and a little
corpulent, and surrounded by divers other fine gentlemen who listened
with more or less languid interest while he held forth on the heinous
crime of smuggling.
“But, my lord,” ventured a mild gentleman in a Ramillie wig, “surely
there are worse sins than smuggling?”
“Ha, d’ye think so, sir, d’ye think so?” demanded my lord pettishly.
“Then ’tis so much the less to your credit, sir. Damme, sir, how dare ye
think so! I say smuggling is a damnable crime and shall be put down
with a strong hand, sir! With relentless determination, and, begad, sir,
I’m the man to do it. I’ll purge Sussex yet ere I’m done, aye—I will so!”
“But, my lord, I—I happen to know something of Sussex and——”
 “And what’s this to me, sir?”
“Only that I understand the traffic is widespread and the Sussex
smugglers are accounted desperate fellows and very cunning, as——”
“And I tell ye, sir, they are demn’d rogues and may be desperate as
they will, but I’ll break ’em! Aye, by heaven, I will if I have to call in the
soldiery and shoot ’em down!”
“’Twould be a little arbitrary, sir!” ventured the mild gentleman again.
“Arbitrary, sir—good! Such ha’ been my methods all my life and
always will be. Have ye any other observations to offer, sir?”
“No, my lord,” answered the mild gentleman.
“Then I’ll ha’ you know there are others besides smuggling rascals
that I’ll deal with ... others, aye ... just so soon as my arm permits. And
my method with them shall be just as arbitrary and—more to the point,
sir, the point!” And my lord tapped the hilt of his small-sword.
“Tommy,” exclaimed Sir John at this juncture, “’tis devilish sour wine,
this! The properest place for’t is—out o’ the window!” And, with a
wide-armed, backward swing he sent the contents of his glass showering
over the flaxen wig, wide shoulders and broad back of my Lord Sayle.
A gasping oath of angry amazement; a moment of horrified silence....
“What, have I sprinkled some one, Tom?” questioned Sir John and,
glancing over his shoulder, he seemed to notice my lord for the first time
and laughed. “Why, ’tis no matter, Tom,” quoth he lightly, “’twas only
that fellow Sayle. Shall we try another bottle?”
My Lord Sayle’s chair was hurled aside, and he turned to leap at the
speaker, but recoiled before the thrust of a gold-mounted cane.
“Sir,” said Sir John, stabbing him off, “since no ladies are present you
ha’ my permission to swear until you weary, but you will do it at a
distance—remain where you are—sir!”
My lord promptly cursed and swore until he had raved himself
breathless.
“Tut, sir, tut-tut!” smiled Sir John. “Don’t bluster from the coward’s
castle of an injured arm; come to me when you can mishandle your
sword and I’ll send you back to bed again.... I think we’ll make it your
right leg next time——”
 At this, my lord’s frenzy broke forth anew, a wild torrent of oaths,
vituperations and murderous threats, while Sir John, holding him off
with his cane, watched him with a serene satisfaction until once again
my lord was constrained to pause for breath; whereupon Sir John
continued:
“Give me leave to tell you, my Lord Sayle, that I account you a thing
begotten in evil hour merely to cast a shadow i’ the sun ... hold off, my
lord! ... and esteem you of no more account. At the same time, I seize
this occasion to state publicly ... pray, keep your distance, my lord! ...
that I, John Dering, being a man o’ sentiment and also of action, do
solemnly pledge myself to harass you on every available occasion until I
either ha’ the happiness of driving you out o’ the country or the
misfortune to kill you.”
Here my lord, becoming articulate again, roared and shouted for his
sword, vowing he would fight left-handed. But now, despite the mad and
terrible fury that shook him and the fell purpose that glared in his eyes as
he raved thus, threatening death and damnation, clutching vainly at Sir
John’s elusive cane and stamping in baffled rage, the contrast was so
ludicrous that some one tittered nervously and then came laughter—an
hysterical roaring, peal on peal, that nothing might check or subdue.
Even the mild gentleman had caught the contagion and laughed until his
Ramillie wig was all askew and himself doubled up, groaning in helpless
mirth.
Even when my Lord Sayle, reeling like a drunken man, was half led,
half carried out by his friends, the company rocked and howled, hooted
and groaned, slapped themselves and each other, wailing in faint,
cracked voices: thus their Gargantuan laughter waxed and grew until
came the drawers to peep and gape; until pedestrians in the street below
paused to stare and wonder.
“O Jack ... O Jack!” wailed Captain Armitage. “Hold me ... hit me, a
mercy’s name.... Sayle ... vowing to ha’ y’r blood and ... clutching at a
cane that ... wasn’t there!... Swearing hell and fury and dancing ... like a
... dem’d marionette! O Lord! ‘Begotten to be a shadow,’ says you!...
‘We’ll make it your ... right leg ... next time!’ Oh, rat me, Jack!...”
“By heaven,” gasped the mild gentleman, “here’s a tale! Every coffee-
house will be ... cackling with’t. My lord’s loved none too well ... first on
one leg, then ... on t’other....”
 Presently, taking advantage of the general uproar, Sir John hasted to
retire, followed by the Captain, still breathless but eager.
“Ha’ ye any other bears to bait, Jack?” he inquired as they descended
to the street.
“Not at present, Tom.”
“So much the worse,” the Captain sighed. “Howbeit, I’ll not part with
thee; we’ll see the night out together. First, dinner at the Piazza, and then
——”
“Thank’ee no, Tom! I’ve affairs——”
“Aha—is she very fair?”
“I’m a man o’ business, Tom, and am in town for but a short time.”
“Why, then, where are ye living, Jack?”
“At High Dering.”
“Good Ged—the country!” exclaimed Captain Armitage, visibly
shocked. “And y’ are going back again to rusticate—you, of all men!”
“Immediately.”
“Cabbages and mangold-wurzels!” murmured the Captain. “Amazing!
Unless—aha, some rustic nymph, perchance—some village Venus, eh,
Jack?”
“Nay, Tom, smugglers and an ancient witch, rather. But what do you
do these days?”
“Naught i’ the world since I inherited save play the fool generally and
make love to ‘the Barrasdaile,’ as the fashion is. And——”
“Sounds lamentably dreary, Tom.”
“It is, Jack, it is!” sighed the Captain. “One wearies of everything, and
‘the Barrasdaile’ hath no heart! And, talking of her, she flammed and
tricked thee finely, it seems!”
“She did, Tom. You’ve heard the tale, then?”
“Aye, Jack, who hasn’t? ’Twill be all over town by this, i’ faith, but
your ears should tingle, for ’twas demnably against you! Disguised, Jack
... dressed in her woman’s clothes and you all unsuspecting, ha-ha!”
“And ’twas she told you, was it?”
 “Herself, Jack, this afternoon just before you made your dem’d
dramatic appearance. And, rat me, but ’twas pure! She had us all roaring
with laughter at thy expense, old lad ... demme, even the women forgot
to be scandalised. To ha’ flammed you of all men! She must ha’ played
the country innocent marvellous well!”
“She must indeed, Tom.”
“Ye see, Jack, she never forgives——”
“A bad habit, Tom!”
“Aye!” nodded the Captain. “And ’tis plain to see she hates thee—
even yet!”
“And that is worse!” sighed Sir John.
“And she’s dev’lish clever and quick—for all her size. Aye, a
passionate creeter ... a goddess ... all fire, Jack, or freezing cold ... she’ll
never”—here the Captain sighed heavily—“no, she’ll never marry me,
’tis sure—although——”
“Never, Tom!”
“Oh, begad!” exclaimed the Captain, startled. “Sink me, but ye seem
dem’d sure about it!”
“Tommy, I am!”
“And why, pray?”
“Because if she ever marries any one, that one will be me.”
“You—you, Jack! You of all men?” stammered the Captain.
“Myself!”
“Good Ged!” gasped the Captain. “But——”
“Good-bye!” quoth Sir John, and, seizing his companion’s hand, he
shook it heartily and went his airy way, leaving the Captain to stare after
him quite dumbfounded.