Smell of spirits, nothing more!
Deeply that strong odour sniffing stood I “butting” there and “if-ing;”
Guessing, wondering, surmising who it was that I’d heard pour.
Still the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token;
But a bottle brandy-soaken I remarked upon the floor.
This I noticed, black and empty, lying there upon the floor—
Merely that, and nothing more!
From the chamber I was turning, all my soul within me yearning
For a little cup of cognac: since my chilblains were so sore—
When I heard a sound of rustling, as of some stout woman bustling—