"No, everything seems very stale just now," said the auctioneer, as he blew down the stem of his pipe, and twisted his little finger appreciatively round the inside of the bowl. "There's an account of a fatal accident to one of our young swells; but the country could spare a lot like him without being any the worse off," added Nipper, who prided himself on his democratic principles.
"There are swells and swells," responded Mr. Fildew, dryly. "What was the name of this particular one?"
"The Earl of Loughton. Pitched off his hunter and broke his neck. Not quite one-and-twenty."
Mr. Fildew, who had been in the act of lifting his glass to his lips, put it down untasted. Mr. Nipper turned and stared at him.
"Hullo! I say, what's the matter? Was the young lord a friend of your grace?" This was asked with something of a grin. "By Jove! you are all of a shake."
"The Earl of Loughton was no friend of mine. I never saw him in my life. But I happen to be acquainted with the man who will succeed him in the title."
"Bully for you, my boy," responded Mr. Nipper, who could not forget that he had once spent six months in the States. "Here's the account. Perhaps you would like to read it." He pointed to a brief paragraph, which Fildew, with the newspaper held up within an inch or two of his nose, read carefully through more than once.
"I must write to my friend to-night and congratulate him," he said, in his usual quiet, matter-of-fact tone, as he laid down the newspaper. "It will be a great surprise for him."
"Let us hope that in the day of his prosperity the friends of his adversity will not be forgotten," said Nipper, who was one of the orators of the B. B.
"It is but a barren honor that he will come into," answered Fildew. "The title will be his, but the estates go elsewhere;" and nodding a curt "goodnight" to the auctioneer, he emptied his glass and left the room.
Whether Mr. Fildew ever wrote that particular letter respecting which he spoke to Mr. Nipper is more than doubtful. Like many other men, he hated letter-writing, and it is possible that the incident in connection with Lord Loughton, to which he had seemed to attach so much importance when he first heard of it, may have assumed a different aspect when recalled to mind in the cool light of morning. In any case, there was no observable difference in his appearance or mode of life. He came and went, and smoked and drank, as heretofore only it might be that he was a little more particular in scanning the newspapers than he had previously been. At the end of a week his friend Nipper said to him, "I see that poor young fellow was buried yesterday."