Where’s Groombridge?”
“In his altitudes,” responded the Tiger promptly. “A-snoring fit to bring the plaster down, he is.”
“Drunk?” ejaculated his lordship. “The devil! I thought he never touched liquor! Where’s Bootle?”
“Gorn out. What do you expect, guv’nor, when you said you was going yourself? They’ll look as queer as Dick’s hatband, they will, the silly chubs, when I tells ’em you was at home all the time. What was you a-ringing for?”
“A pretty state of affairs!” said his lordship wrathfully. “Fetch me the madeira out of the dining-room, and a couple of glasses, Jason! And don’t tell me you don’t know it when you see it, because I’ll lay my life you do!”
“Well, I do, then,” said the henchman, with dignity. “I knows all the rum-bubs, but mind, now, guv’nor! I ain’t no bingo-boy, so don’t you go a-setting it about you ever seen me with the malt above the water, because you ain’t!” With this admonition, he left the room, returning in a few minutes with a decanter in one hand, and two wine glasses in the other. These he planted on the table without ceremony. He then withdrew, turning back in the doorway to inform the Honourable Prosper that his greatcoat pockets contained various other items besides his snuffbox, and that if he did not desire to be bled by a bite he would do well to hide the Ready-and-Rhino more securely.
“If I were you, Sherry, I’d send that rogue packing!” said Prosper.
“He doesn’t worry me,” responded Sherry, handing him a glass of wine.
“No! He don’t steal your property!” retorted Prosper. “When I think of the things of mine that rascal has walked off with — However, that’s not what I came to talk to you about! If you’re not mighty careful, my boy, you’ll find yourself under the hatches! What the devil takes you to 12 Park Place? Young fool! Frittering a fortune away at French hazard, eh?”
“Fudge!” said Sherry, colouring.