Alice looked, but could see neither Lord Worthington nor the cause
of a subtle but perceptible change in Lydia, who said, quickly, "He is probably coming to our train. Come to the waiting-room."
She walked swiftly along the platform as she spoke. Alice hurried after
her; and they had but just got into the room, the door of which was
close to the staircase which gave access to the platform, when a
coarse din of men's voices showed that a noisy party were ascending
the steps. Presently a man emerged reeling, and at once began to
execute a drunken dance, and to sing as well as his condition and
musical faculty allowed. Lydia stood near the window of the room and
watched in silence. Alice, following her example, recognized the
drunken dancer as Mellish. He was followed by three men gayly
attired and highly elated, but comparatively sober. After them came
Cashel Byron, showily dressed in a velveteen coat, and
tightly-fitting fawn-colored pantaloons that displayed the muscles
of his legs. He also seemed quite sober; but he was dishevelled, and
his left eye blinked frequently, the adjacent brow and cheek being
much yellower than his natural complexion, which appeared to
advantage on the right side of his face. Walking steadily to
Mellish, who was now asking each of the bystanders in turn to come
and drink at his expense, he seized him by the collar and sternly
bade him cease making a fool of himself. Mellish tried to embrace
him.
"My own boy," he exclaimed, affectionately. "He's my little
nonpareil. Cashel Byron again' the world at catch weight. Bob
Mellish's money--"
"You sot," said Cashel, rolling him about until he was giddy as well
as drunk, and then forcing him to sit down on a bench; "one would
think you never saw a mill or won a bet in your life before."
"Steady, Byron," said one of the others. "Here's his lordship." Lord
Worthington was coming up the stairs, apparently the most excited of
the party.
"Fine man!" he cried, patting Cashel on the shoulder. "Splendid man!
You have won a monkey for me to-day; and you shall have your share
of it, old boy."
"I trained him," said Mellish, staggering forward again. "I trained
him. You know me, my lord. You know Bob Mellish. A word with your
lordship in c-confidence. You ask who knows how to make the beef go
and the muscle come. You ask--I ask your lordship's pard'n. What'll
your lordship take?"
"Take care, for Heaven's sake!" exclaimed Lord Worthington,
clutching at him as he reeled backward towards the line. "Don't you
see the train?"