“H’m!” ejaculated the Squire, dubiously, though his relaxed countenance showed him to be decidedly mollified. “Perhaps—and then again, perhaps not. Let’s hear your story, howsomever. ’Tis all devilish curious—the lady desiring not to be seen, and the rest of it. Please to take this here chair.” The Squire moved an armchair from what was evidently the clerk’s place to where it faced across the table to the seat of judgment. He then went around and assumed the latter, having meanwhile rung for a servant. “And just to be on the safe side,” he added, “in case it is a game you’re a-trying on, I’ll be prepared.” He drew a bunch of small keys from his pocket, opened a drawer in his side of the table, and fetched out a pair of pistols, which he laid before him; he then closed the drawer, all but a few inches. “Yes, sir, I keep ’em always loaded,” he said, as he looked to the priming. “I’m a blunt, outspoken man, as you observe, and I take my precautions.”
“I have no right to complain, sir,” said Everell, who sat with his face to the Squire, and his back to the door of the apartment; “a stranger intruding at this hour of the night must take what reception he finds.”
“Very well said, sir. And at the same time I’ll show you as I know how to treat a gentleman, too, in case you be one.—Jabez,” for the servant had now entered, “tell Bartholomew to fetch a bottle of what I’ve been drinking. And tell the gentlemen at table—no, they bean’t gentlemen neither, and damn me if I’ll call ’em so!—tell ’em to make the best of it without me, I’ll be with ’em when I see fit.—A man is hard put to it for proper company sometimes, sir,” he explained, when Jabez had gone. “Though if some beggarly attorney, or worse, can do justice to his bottle, and tell a good tale or so, talk intelligently of dogs and horses, and listen with respect to his betters, why, some things may be winked at.”
It was manifestly Thornby’s wish to postpone matters till the wine came; so Everell answered in the strain he thought likely to command the other’s favour. Bartholomew presently appeared with bottle and glasses, observed the pistols with mild wonder, and retired.
“Now, sir,” said Thornby, “we’ll drink the lady’s health, and then for your business. Nay, don’t trouble yourself to reach; keep to your own side of the table.” And the Squire pushed bottle and glass to Everell’s hands, preferring that these should not come too close to the pistols. “The lady’s health, as I said. Shall we have her name, sir?”
“Not at present, if you’ll excuse me.”
“As you please. Health of the fair unknown in the closet—eh?”
“The fair unknown in the closet,” said Everell, and the glasses went to the lips.
“And now, by the Lord,” said the Squire, “you shall return the compliment. I’ve drunk to your fair companion: you shall drink to a lady of my proposing.”
“With all my heart,” replied Everell, and dissembled his impatience while the glasses were filled anew.