"Trouble! what have you got to trouble you, I'd like to know? But I forgot, you haven't told me what occurred to-day; and that's just what I come after you for, to find out."
"Well, I may as well tell you, I suppose, if you are so anxious to know. Delancey, I don't believe, will keep it to himself, and you may as well know it from me as him."
"Never hope for him to keep anything secret that could hurt a body; I never knew him to screen a clerk's faults yet. He is of the opinion that to make the matter public, is the best way to ensure better luck next time. Let's step in here, and take something refreshing; and you can tell me the story over our glasses."
Arthur complied, and entering one of those gorgeous saloons, which can be found in almost every block of the Crescent City, Quirk stepped to the counter, and ordered a bottle of wine, and, in an under-tone, added:—"A private apartment, also, if you have one empty."
The clerk, who was a portly, sensual-faced, red-haired man, raised his brows, and, tipping a sly wink at Quirk, said:—"Up stairs or down?"
"Both, perhaps," returned the other, with a laugh; "but if we want an upper one, we'll let you know. Down stairs for the present."
The man had by this time lighted a lamp, at the wick of which he had been working for some time, and taking the bottle of wine, he led the way into the back part of the saloon, where was a door partially concealed by red moreen hangings. He shoved aside the curtain, and passed into a long vestibule, elegantly furnished, with doors opening on each side, not unlike the state-rooms of a steamboat. These doors led into small apartments, carpeted, lighted, and containing four chairs and a card-table, with a pack of cards.
"You are perfectly private here, gentlemen."
"Yes," replied Quirk, seating himself with the air of a man who has bought his comfort, and means to enjoy it. "Ah, Quibbles, what shall we do for cigars? I forgot them."