But who was the leader to be? Sir Berdmore frankly confessed that he had none to propose; and the Viscount and the Baron were quite silent.
"Gentlemen!" bawled the Marquess, and his eye danced in his beaming face, "Gentlemen! there is a man, who could do our bidding." The eyes of every guest were fixed on the haranguing host.
"Gentlemen, fill your glasses—I give you our leader—Mr. Frederick Cleveland."
"Cleveland!" was the universal shout. A glass of claret fell from Lord Courtown's hand; Lord Beaconsfield stopped as he was about to fill his glass, and stood gaping at the Marquess, with the decanter in his hand; and Sir Berdmore stared on the table, as men do when something unexpected, and astounding, has occurred at dinner, which seems past all their management.
"Cleveland!" shouted the guests.
