"That's very well for you, Toby," said Hanbury, beating his chest in default of getting at the Treasury's; "but there's a dark mystery under this business which I mean to fathom. You remember the case of another chest and its weird associations?
'Fifteen men on a dead man's chest—
Ho! Ho! Ho! and a bottle of rum.'
Harcourt may, or may not, have been one of the fifteen. I'm not quite clear on that point. Indeed I'm somewhat muddled in the main; but I suspect the Squire is up to some deed of infamy, and I have done my best to plumb its slimy depths."
Bill passed nevertheless; other business wound up, and so off for holidays. Business done.—House adjourned for Whitsun Recess.
The Real "Rejected Addresses."—Those that cannot be deciphered at the General Post Office.