Chapter 8

One morning a handsome young man, elegantly dressed, presented
himself at Downing Street, and asked to see Mr. Lucian Webber. He
declined to send in a card, and desired to be announced simply as
"Bashville." Lucian ordered him to be admitted at once, and, when he
entered, nodded amiably to him and invited him to sit down.

"I thank you, sir," said Bashville, seating himself. It struck
Lucian then, from a certain strung-up resolution in his visitor's
manner, that he had come on some business of his own, and not, as he
had taken for granted, with a message from his mistress.

"I have come, sir, on my own responsibility this morning. I hope yon
will excuse the liberty."

"Certainly. If I can do anything for you, Bashville, don't be afraid
to ask. But be as brief as you can. I am so busy that every second I
give you will probably be subtracted from my night's rest. Will ten
minutes be enough?"

"More than enough, sir, thank you. I only wish to ask one question.
I own that I am stepping out of my place to ask it; but I'll risk
all that. Does Miss Carew know what the Mr. Cashel Byron is that she
receives every Friday with her other friends?"

"No doubt she does," said Lucian, at once becoming cold in his
manner, and looking severely at Bashville. "What business is that of
yours?"

"Do YOU know what he is, sir?" said Bashville, returning Lucian's
gaze steadily.

Lucian changed countenance, and replaced a pen that had slipped from
a rack on his desk. "He is not an acquaintance of mine," he said. "I
only know him as a friend of Lord Worthington's."

"Sir," said Bashville, with sudden vehemence, "he is no more to Lord
Worthington than the racehorse his lordship bets on. _I_ might as
well set up to be a friend of his lordship because I, after a manner
of speaking, know him. Byron is in the ring, sir. A common
prize-fighter!"

Lucian, recalling what had passed at Mrs. Hoskyn's, and Lord
Worthington's sporting habits, believed the assertion at once. But
he made a faint effort to resist conviction. "Are you sure of this,
Bashville?" he said. "Do you know that your statement is a very
serious one?"

"There is no doubt at all about it, sir. Go to any sporting
public-house in London and ask who is the best-known fighting man of
the day, and they'll tell you, Cashel Byron. I know all about him,
sir. Perhaps you have heard tell of Ned Skene, who was champion,
belike, when you were at school."

"I believe I have heard the name."

"Just so, sir. Ned Skene picked up this Cashel Byron in the streets