Christian, Mr Scales was in a state of frustration that prevented speech. Every one was rather embarrassed.
"That's a most uncommon sort o' fellow," said Mr Crowder, in an under-tone, to his next neighbour, the gardener. "Why, Mr Philip picked him up in foreign parts, didn't he?"
"He was a courier," said the gardener. "He's had a deal of experience. And I believe, by what I can make out—for he's been pretty free with me sometimes—there was a time when he was in that rank of life that he fought a duel."
"Ah! that makes him such a cool chap," said Mr Crowder.
"He's what I call an overbearing fellow," said Mr Sircome, also sotto voce, to his next neighbour, Mr Filmore, the surgeon's assistant. "He runs you down with a sort of talk that's neither here nor there. He's got a deal too many samples in his pocket for me."
"All I know is, he's a wonderful hand at cards," said Mr Filmore, whose whiskers and shirt-pin were quite above the average. "I wish I could play écarté as he does; it's beautiful to see him; he can make a man look pretty blue—he'll empty his pocket for him in no time."
