taste in humor!" the poet said. "Robin, we
have been more than brothers. And it is I, I, of all persons living,
who have drawn you into this imbroglio!"

"My danger is not very apparent as yet," said Calverley, "if Umfraville
controls his sword no better than his tongue."

My lord of Ufford went on: "There is no question of a duel. It is as
well to spare you what Lord Umfraville replied to my challenge. Let it
suffice that we do not get sugar from the snake. Besides, the man has
his grievance. Robin, have you forgot that necklace you and Pevensey
took from Umfraville some three years ago--before you went into Russia?"

Calverley laughed. The question recalled an old hot-headed time when,
exalted to a frolicsome zone by the discovery of Lady Honoria Pomfret's
love for him, he planned the famous jest which he and the mad Earl of
Pevensey perpetrated upon Umfraville. This masquerade won quick
applause. Persons of ton guffawed like ploughboys over the
discomfiture of an old hunks thus divertingly stripped of his bride,
all his betrothal gifts, and of the very clothes he wore. An anonymous
scribbler had detected in the occurrence a denouement suited to the
stage and had constructed a comedy around it, which, when produced by
the Duke's company, had won acclaim from hilarious auditors.

So Calverley laughed heartily. "Gad, what a jest that was! This
Umfraville comes to marry Honoria. And highwaymen attack his coach! I
would give L50 to have witnessed this usurer's arrival at Denton Honor
in his underclothes! and to have seen his monkey-like grimaces when he
learned that Honoria and I were already across the Channel!"

"You robbed him, though----"

"Indeed, for beginners at peculation we did not do so badly. We robbed
him and his valet of everything in the coach, including their breeches.
You do not mean that Pevensey has detained the poor man's wedding
trousers? If so, it is unfortunate, because this loud-mouthed miser
has need of them in order that he may be handsomely interred."

"Lord Umfraville's wedding-suit was stuffed with straw, hung on a pole
and paraded through London by Pevensey, March, Selwyn and some dozen
other madcaps, while six musicians marched before them. The clothes
were thus conveyed to Umfraville's house. I think none of us would
have relished a joke like that were he the butt of it."

Now the poet's lean countenance was turned upon young Calverley, and as
always, Ufford evoke