"Are we alone?"
"Quite clear; but how the mischief did you get in there, man?"
"Through the door," replied Bathurst, as he followed his host into a cozy parlor, where a shaded lamp burned. "You are not a good sentinel; why, I all but brushed you; have you no sense of feeling, then; why, man, I can recognize a near presence in the darkest room."
"Now that I think of it," retorts the doctor, maliciously, "I did feel a queer sensation in the ends of my thumbs. Make yourself at home now; take that chair," rolling a comfortable-looking monster close to the round table; "there are segars and—why—I say man, have you eaten any thing since you started on this chase?"
"Now you mention it, I distinctly recollect, that I have not."
"Of course not; I will wake up Mrs. Gray."
"Pray don't; I couldn't think of eating Mrs. Gray."
"Nonsense!" laughs his host; "Mrs. Gray is my housekeeper, and she is deaf as a post."
"Well, that's a comfort, the deafness. Is she dumb, too?"