“Agreed!” said she. “And I’m to have the country seat?”
“Agreed!” said I. “And the colonel’s to be President and to have the Golden House and all that therein is.”
“Agreed! agreed! agreed!” chanted the signorina; “and that’s quite enough business, and it’s very late for me to be entertaining gentlemen. One toast, and then good-night. Success to the Revolution! To be drunk in blood-red wine!”
As there was no red wine, except claret, and that lies cold on the stomach at three in the morning, we drank it in French brandy. I had risen to go, when a sudden thought struck me:
“By Jupiter! where’s Johnny Carr? I say, colonel, how drunk was he last night? Do you think he remembers telling you about it?”
“Yes,” said the colonel, “I expect he does by now. He didn’t when I left him this morning.”
“Will he confess to the President? If he does, it might make the old man keep an unpleasantly sharp eye on you. He knows you don’t love him.”
“Well, he hasn’t seen the President yet. He was to stay at my house over to-day. He was uncommon seedy this morning, and I persuaded the doctor to give him a composing draught. Fact is, I wanted him quiet till I’d had time to think! You know I don’t believe he would own up—the President would drop on him so; but he might, and it’s better they shouldn’t meet.”
“There’s somebody else he oughtn’t to meet,” said the signorina.
“Who’s that?” I asked.