"Hoss! Do you apply such words to me," indignantly echoed the merchant prince.
"Be calm," soothingly remarked Blossom. "Lay low. Keep dark. Jist answer me one question: Has your son Evelyn a soot o' rooms in the upper part o' this house?"
"What do you ask such a question for?" and Mr. Somers opened his eyes again. "He has all the rooms on the third floor, in the body of the mansion—there are four in all."
"Very good. Now, is Evelyn at home?" asked Blossom.
"Don't come so near. The smell of brandy is offensive to me. Faugh!"
"You'll smell brimstone, if you don't take keer!" exclaimed the indignant Blossom. "To think o' sich ingratitude from an old cock like you, when I've come to keep that throat o' yourn from bein' cut by robbers."
"Robbers!" and this time Mr. Somers fairly started from his seat.
"When I've come to purtect your jugular,—yes, you needn't wink,—your jugular! Oh, it was not for nothing that a Roman consul once remarked that republics is ungrateful."
"Robbers? Robbers! What d'ye mean? Speak—speak—"
Blossom laid his hand upon the merchant's shoulder.