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Updated: May 31, 2025
"You will let me know how you get on, from time to time?" inquired Barnabas. "Sir," stammered Mr. Smivvle, "sir oh, Beverley, I can't thank you I cannot, but if I live, you shall find I don't forget and " "Hush! I think a door creaked somewhere!" said Barnabas, almost in a tone of relief. In an instant Mr. Smivvle had possessed himself of his shabby hat and was astride of the window-sill.
Smivvle stared from the money to Barnabas and back again, and felt for his whisker with fumbling fingers. "Sir," he said, "you can't you don't mean to to " "Yes," said Barnabas, turning to re-lock the drawer. Mr. Smivvle's hand dropped from his whiskers, indeed, for the moment he almost seemed to have forgotten their existence. "Sir," he stammered, "I cannot allow no indeed, sir! Mr.
"And though, my Lord, though my name is not familiar, I think you will remember his; the name of my friend is " here Mr. Smivvle, having at length discovered his whisker, gave it a fierce twirl, "Ronald Barrymaine." The Viscount's smooth brow remained unclouded, only the glove tore in his fingers; so he smiled, shook his head, and drawing it off, tossed it away.
And, talking of him, I met another rascal as I came I mean that fellow Smivvle; had he been here?" "Yes." "Begging, I suppose?" "He borrowed some money for his friend Barrymaine." The Viscount flushed hotly, and looked at Barnabas with a sudden frown. "Perhaps you are unaware, that is a name I never allow spoken in my presence, Mr. Beverley." "Indeed, Viscount, and pray, why not?"
Ronald Barrymaine sank down upon the couch, looked at Barnabas, looked at Smivvle, drained his glass and shook his head. "My dear Dig," said he, "your friend's either mad or drunk mos' probably drunk. Yes, that's it, or else he's smoking me, and I won't be smoked, no man shall laugh at me now that I'm down. Show him the door, Dig.
"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?"
"You don't remember me, perhaps, my Lord?" The Viscount regarded the speaker stonily, and shook his head. "No, I don't, sir." Mr. Smivvle drew himself up, and made the most of his whiskers. "My Lord, my name is Smivvle, Digby Smivvle, at your service, though perhaps you don't remember my name, either?" The Viscount took out his driving gloves and began to put them on.
Smivvle was astride the sill, but paused there to glance about him and twist a whisker in dubious fingers. "Coast clear?" he inquired. "I've been hanging about the place for a week hoping to see you, but by Gad, Beverley, you're so surrounded by watchful angels especially one in an Indian shawl, that I didn't dare disturb you, but " "Pooh, nonsense come in, man!" said Barnabas.
"'Scuse me, gents!" said the head, speaking hoarsely, and rolling its eyes at them, "name o' Barrymaine, vich on ye might that be, now?" "Ha?" cried Mr. Smivvle angrily, "so you're here again, are you!" "'Scuse me, gents!" said the head, blinking its round eyes at them, "name o' Barrymaine, no offence, vich?" "Come," said Mr. Smivvle, beginning to tug at his whiskers, "come, get out, d'ye hear!"
Smivvle, with a smiling shake of the head, "I prefer the letters H.R.H. Anyhow, there were many rumors afloat at the time, and her guardian a regular, tarry old sea dog, by George drags her away from her brother's side, and buries her in the country, like the one-armed old pirate he is, eye to her money they tell me; regular old skinflint; bad as a Jew damn him!
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