They had already drank pretty freely; but Mr. Bruteman took up a bottle, and said, "Let us drink another glass to the speedy replenishing of your purse." They poured full bumpers, touched glasses, and drank the contents.
There was a little pause, during which Mr. Bruteman sat twirling his glass between thumb and finger, with looks directed toward his companion. All at once he said, "Fitzgerald, did you ever find those handsome octoroon girls?"
"What octoroon girls?" inquired the other.
"O, you disremember them, do you?" rejoined he. "I mean how did that bargain turn out that you made with Royal's creditors? You seemed to have small chance of finding the girls; unless, indeed, you hid them away first, for the purpose of buying them for less than half they would have brought to the creditors,—which, of course, is not to be supposed, because no gentleman would do such a thing."
Thrown off his guard by too much wine, Fitzgerald vociferated, "Do you mean to insinuate that I am no gentleman?"
Mr. Bruteman smiled, as he answered: "I said such a thing was not to be supposed. But come, Fitzgerald, let us understand one another. I'd rather, a devilish sight, have those girls than the money you owe me. Make them over to me, and I'll cancel the debt. Otherwise, I shall be under the necessity of laying an attachment on some of your property."
There was a momentary silence before Mr. Fitzgerald answered, "One of them is dead."
"Which one?" inquired his comrade.
"Flora, the youngest, was drowned."
"And that queenly beauty, where is she? I don't know that I ever heard her name."