“I guess we won’t have no more trouble with that lot,” said he. “I jammed ’im inter a cupboard under the stairs, along with the brooms an’ dustpans. ’Ere’s the key. I’ll take your orders meself, gentlemen.”
“Where’s the lovely bar-maid?” asked Dolphin.
“She’s that took up with a gent that’s got a cast in his eye and a red mustache,” replied William, “that she’s got no time fer this crowd. What’s yours, Garstang? Look slippy. Don’t keep me all night.”
The men named their liquors, and Young William, taking three shillings from Dolphin, returned to the bar.
He was rather a long time away, and when he reappeared Carnac remarked, “You’ve been deuced slow over it—you’ll have to be sharper than that, if you want to be waiter in a hotel, my Sweet William.”
“You’re all very small potatoes in this room, you’re no class—you’re not in it with wall-eyed blokes. Here’s yer drinks.”
He went round the table, and carefully placed each individual’s glass at his elbow; and the game continued.
The pool fell to Carnac, and all Tresco’s money was gone.
“Here’s luck,” said the Prospector, lifting his glass to Dolphin; and when he had drunk he put his stake in the middle of the table.
Carnac rattled the dice-box. “Hello!” he said. “Kitty is short by five pounds. Who’s the defaulter?”