“You cannot surely mean that?” said Mr. Winkle. “The stock itself——”
“Dummies, my dear boy,” said Bob Sawyer; “half the drawers have nothing in ’em, and the other half don’t open.”
“Nonsense!” said Mr. Winkle.
“Fact—honour!” returned Bob Sawyer, stepping out into the shop, and demonstrating the veracity of the assertion by divers hard pulls at the little gilt knobs on the counterfeit drawers. “Hardly anything real in the shop but the leeches, and they are second-hand.”
“I shouldn’t have thought it!” exclaimed Mr. Winkle, much surprised.
“I hope not,” replied Bob Sawyer, “else where’s the use of appearances, eh? But what will you take? Do as we do? That’s right. Ben, my fine fellow, put your hand into the cupboard, and bring out the patent digester.”
Mr. Benjamin Allen smiled his readiness, and produced from the closet at his elbow a black bottle half full of brandy.
“You don’t take water, of course?” said Bob Sawyer.
“Thank you,” replied Mr. Winkle. “It’s rather early. I should like to qualify it, if you have no objection.”