To him at least he could not play the hypocrite or the deceiver.

He had turned from the mantelpiece, his hand was held out to take that of his friend's, he was just about to speak, when the door of his room opened, and there entered Gus, Mortimer, and two companions.
"Here he is!" cried Gus, not noticing that Tom had company.

"Tommy, old man, you're in luck.

Old Owl has got a supper on to-night, no end of punch, my boy, and he's expecting you; and afterwards we're going for a regular night of it to the-- Hullo! who's your friend ?" He caught sight of Charlie at this moment, and for an instant failed to recognise in Tom's companion the boy whom he had treated so shamefully at Gurley races.

But he remembered him in a moment.
"What, surely--yet upon my honour so it is, our young sporting friend.
How are you, Charlie, my boy?
Here's a game! You'll come too, of course?
Mortimer, this fellow is Drift's special--up to all the wrinkles, no end of a knowing blade." During this brief and rapid salutation Tom and Charlie, I need hardly say, were speechless.