The chaise was soon out; the doctor entered; off went the post-boys; and Richard Crauford, feeling his diamond, turned his thoughts to safety and to France.
A little, unknown man, who had been sitting at the bar for the last two hours sipping brandy and water, and who from his extreme taciturnity and quiet had been scarcely observed, now rose. “Landlord,” said he, “do you know who that gentleman is?”
“Why,” quoth Boniface, “the letter to him was directed, ‘For the Rev. Dr. Stapylton; will be called for.’”
“Ah,” said the little man, yawning, “I shall have a long night’s work of it. Have you another chaise and four in the yard?”
“To be sure, sir, to be sure!” cried the landlord in astonishment.
“Out with it, then! Another glass of brandy and water,—a little stronger, no sugar!”
The landlord stared; the barmaid stared; even the head-waiter, a very stately person, stared too.
“Hark ye,” said the little man, sipping his brandy and water, “I am a deuced good-natured fellow, so I’ll make you a great man to-night; for nothing makes a man so great as being let into a great secret. Did you ever hear of the rich Mr. Crauford?”
“Certainly: who has not?”
“Did you ever see him?”