"Mr. Furlong," gently uttered the youth.
"Get in the luggage, James. Come, sir, walk into the dinner-room: we haven't finished our wine yet." With these words Dick ushered in Furlong to the apartment where Squire Egan sat, who rose as they entered. "Mr. Furlong, Ned," said Dick.
"Happy to see you, Mr. Furlong," said the hearty Squire, who shook Furlong's hand in what Furlong considered a most savage manner. "You seem fatigued?"
"Vewy," was the languid reply of the traveller, as he threw himself into a chair.
"Ring the bell for more claret, Dick," said Squire Egan.
"I neveh dwink."
Dick and the Squire both looked at him with amazement, for in the friend of Moriarty they expected to find a hearty fellow.
"A cool bottle wouldn't do a child any harm," said the Squire. "Ring, Dick. And now, Mr. Furlong, tell us how you like the country."
"Not much, I pwotest."
"What do you think of the people?"