Don Cæsar kept on hurrying up the wine, and as each bottle was uncorked, he assured the servants—"All right; if it ain't all right, we'll make it all right in the morning!"
And so Don Cæsar and his bon vivant friends went it, until some two dozen bottles of Schreider, Hock, and Sherry had decanted, and the whole entire party were getting as merry as grigs, and so noisy and rip-roarious, that the clerk of the institution came up, and standing outside of the door, sent a servant to Don Cæsar, to politely request that gentleman to step out into the hall one moment.
"What's that?" says the Don; "speak loud, I've got a buzzing in my ears, and can't hear whispers."
"Mr. Tompkins, sir, the clerk of the house, sir," replies the servant, in a sharp key.
"Well, what the deuce of Tompkins—hic—what does he—hic—does he want? Tell—hic—tell him it's—hic—all right, or we'll make it all right—hic—in the morning."
Mr. Tompkins then took the liberty of stepping inside, and slipping up to Don Cæsar, assured him that himself and friends were a little too merry, but Don Cæsar assured Tompkins—
"It's all—hic—right, mi boy, all—hic—right; these gentlemen—hic—are all gentlemen, my—hic—personal friends—hic—and it's all right—hic—all perfectly—hic—right, or we'll make it all right in the morning."
"That we do not question, sir," says the clerk, "but there are many persons in the adjoining rooms whom you'll disturb, sir; I speak for the credit of the house."
"O—hic—certainly, certainly, mi boy; I'll—hic—I'll speak to the gentlemen," says the Don, rising in his chair, and assuming a very solemn graveness, peculiar to men in the fifth stage of libation deep; "Gentlemen—hic—gentlemen, I'm requested to state—hic—that—hic—a very serious piece of intelligence—hic—has met my ear. This gentleman—hic—says somebody's dead in the next—hic—room."
"Not at all, sir; I did not say that, sir," says the clerk.