"And he'll be expecting some sort of a dinner to-night."
"There's a chicken ready to go into the oven for him any minute."
"What you have to do," said Meldon, "is to see that he gets as bad a dinner as possible, and a worse breakfast to-morrow morning."
"Bad, is it?"
"Uneatable," said Meldon. "Serve him up food that a pig wouldn't look at. Can you do that, do you think?"
"I might, of course," said Sabina; "but—"
"Then do."
"Sure if I do he'll not be for stopping in the hotel."
"Exactly," said Meldon. "He's not wanted to stop."
"Mr. Doyle will lacerate me after, if the gentleman leaves, and the language he'll use will be what I wouldn't like to be listening to."