"But what do you mean? What can I do?" said I, walking on by his
side all the time.
"Take him home. Give him hope and motive. Get him away, at any
rate, before those fellows come. Mr. Tracy was over at Mycening this
morning, and said they talked of coming to sleep at the 'Boar,' for
the meet to-morrow, and looking him up."
"Lord Malvoisin?" I asked.
And as I walked on, Mr. Yolland told me what I had not understood
from Eustace, that there had been an outcry among the more reckless
of the Foling Hunt that so good a fellow should be a teetotaller.
Dermot Tracy had been defied into betting upon the resolute
abstinence of his hero--nay, perhaps the truth was that these men had
felt that their victim was being attracted from their grasp, and a
Satanic instinct made them strive to degrade his idol in his eyes.
So advantage was taken of the Australian's ignorance of the names of
liqueurs. Perhaps the wine in the soup had already caused some
excitement in the head--unaccustomed to any stimulant ever since the
accident and illness which had rendered it inflammable to a degree no
one suspected. When once the first glass was swallowed, the dreadful
work was easy, resolution and judgment were obscured, and the old
habits and cravings of the days when poor Harold had been a hard
drinker had been revived in full force. Uproarious mirth and wild
feats of strength seemed to have been the consequence, ending by
provoking the interference of the police, who had locked up till the
morning such of the party as could not escape.
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