“Well, you may as well stand a drink first,” said the adored one. “I’m pretty dry, I can tell you.”
“Certainly, with pleasure; I will order one. Waiter, a brandy-and-soda for this lady—six of brandy, if you please; she’s very delicate and wants support.”
The waiter grinned and brought the drink and the man Johnnie turned round as though to pay him, but really he went without doing so.
George watched him go, and then looked again at the lady, whose appearance seemed to fascinate him.
“Well, if that ain’t a master one,” he said to himself, “and she called herself his wife, she did, and then drew up like a slug’s horns. Hang me if I don’t stick to her till I find out a bit more of the tale.”
Thus ruminated George, who, be it observed, was no fool, and who had a hearty dislike and mistrust of Mr. Quest. While he was wondering how he was to go to work an unexpected opportunity occurred. The lady had finished her brandy-and-soda, and was preparing to leave, when the waiter swooped down upon her.
“Money please, miss,” he said.
“Money!” she said, “why you’re paid.”
“Come, none of that,” said the waiter. “I want a shilling for the brandy-and-soda.”
“A shilling, do you? Then you’ll have to want, you cheating white-faced rascal you; my friend paid you before he went away.”