IX The Crooked Billet stood facing the water, midway between High and Chestnut Streets. Swift packets huddled before it; their masts towered overhead, all stepped with a rake; all the cordage had the taut trimness of government craft. The tavern was built high from the ground to keep it out of the wash of the tide, which sometimes overflowed the docks; it had a broad comfortable look, and a promise of cheer within. The principal room was set with oaken tables; the floor planks were scrubbed to a degree of whiteness, and overhead the beams were brown with smoke. Outside, after sundown, the air had an eager nip, for it was now well into the time of year; and the open fire and whale-oil lamps of the tavern had a cherry glow. Little groups were already gathered at the tables; waiters were going backward and forward bearing hot, hearty dishes and tumblers of steaming drink. With the assurance of an old hand, Whitaker selected a table; and an attentive waiter made them comfortable. "First," said Whitaker, "let us have a trifle of French brandy to put ourselves in humor." Anthony made no objection to this, and the waiter departed to bring the drink. "Old Ned Stapleton, who once was a sort of lord of all the inns in the city and had a master knowledge of cookery, used to say that between meals there was formed a secretion that was a most active poison, and needed to be cut away by ardent spirits before more food was tasted. It is so possible a thing," nodded the dandy, "and the prevention so pleasant a one, that I've always given heed to it." They drank the brandy, and then Whitaker gave his attention to the ordering of the supper. "A venison pasty," directed he, "and one of comfortable size and that has stood long enough to make it desirable. Also we'll have some parsnips, roasted potatoes, and greens. Fish?" and he looked at Anthony. "Suppose it is a boiled rock, with eggs shredded upon it?" Anthony nodded, and so rock it was. "And ale," said Whitaker, as the waiter was departing once more; "a tankard each." Shipmasters and mates, merchants and upper clerks, ate of the good food, drank the excellent liquor of the Crooked Billet, and enjoyed the warm fire and the lights. "A settled, respectable gathering," said Anthony, with a smile, as his eye went about. "And all out of much the same mold. In New Orleans, now, one would see many breeds and kinds; and not only would honest traffic be talked of, about the tables, but many kinds of devilment as well." Whitaker wagged a wise head. "Don't be misled by appearance," said he. "In my travels I've learned that roguery is roguery the world over; it has its place in every port, and all manner of men are engaged in it. If your evil-doer has the air of a church-going man, is he any the less a rascal?" Anthony shook his head.