“Mr. Skinley, I wish to see the gentleman who came in before me,” said Somers, putting his hand on his pistol.
“Do yer?”
“I do.”
“Well, yer needn’t yell no more; there ain’t none so deef as them that won’t hear. You kin see him,” replied the man, with a grin, which seemed to indicate that Somers had been made the victim of a practical joke.
“Where is he?”
“In yender,” replied Skinley, pointing to the door of the room from which the sounds of revelry had come.
Somers had a great many doubts in regard to the situation. There was evidently a considerable body of men in the house.
“Mr. Skinley—”
“I ain’t Mister Skinley. I told you what my name was. My name’s Skinley.”
“Well, Skinley.”