Where the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered
together. Come, landlord, ladle out the nectar. Drink, gentlemen--drink,
all. Brew another bowl at the bar. How divinely it stinks of alcohol!
I hope you like it, gentlemen: it smells all over of spices, like a
mummy. Drink, friends. Ladle, landlord. Drink, all. Serve it out."
The guest fumbled in his pocket, and produced three guineas, which he
slipped into Turnbull's fat palm.
"Let punch flow till that's out. I'm an old friend of the house. I
call here, back and forward. I know you well, Turnbull, though you
don't recognize me."
"You have the advantage of me, sir," said Mr. Turnbull, looking hard
on that dark and sinister countenance--which, or the like of which, he
could have sworn he had never seen before in his life. But he liked
the weight and colour of his guineas, as he dropped them into his
pocket. "I hope you will find yourself comfortable while you stay."
"You have given me a bedroom?"
"Yes, sir--the cedar chamber."
"I know it--the very thing. No--no punch for me. By and by, perhaps."
The talk went on, but the stranger had grown silent. He had seated
himself on an oak bench by the fire, towards which he extended his
feet and hands with seeming enjoyment; his cocked hat being, however,
a little over his face.
Gradually the company began to thin. Sir Geoffrey Mardykes was the
first to go; then some of the humbler townsfolk.
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