He paused and chuckled for a moment at the humor of the “pun”--then he repeated loudly: “Shay you varlet, wake up! Lishen t’me. You gesh bishy on ’phone, tell thash booshlegger hosh-thief o’ mine ’f ’ee shends me more schtuff like thish, I shee nash’nal head booshlegger’s trust ’nd gesh him fired. Thash schtuff kill ’mule! You tell’sh him t’ shave money ’ee shpends on labels ’n buy shumpin’ fit f schen’lemen’s schtomach. Thash schtuff kill ’mule!” The valet fixed one eye on his master, the other being blackened and fully closed, and answered promptly and precisely: “Yes, sir! As you say, sir! But, begging your pardon, sir, the gentleman sent word yesterday that you should not drink any of that, as it was dangerous. He said, begging your pardon, sir, that the goods they make for the common people had been sent you by mistake. He apologized most profusely.” Algernon turned on his valet in a fury. “’N you lesh me kill m’self wish thash schtuff?” he cried. “Thash schtuff kill ’mule.” “Begging your pardon, sir,” replied the valet, “I did object to the best of my ability. But you resisted most violently, blackening my eye and knocking me unconscious into this chair, so that I only recovered just as you spoke a moment ago. That poison must have temporarily deranged your intellect, sir.” “Thash it! S’poison d’ranged in’lect. Thash schtuff kill ’mule. S’too bad! Here, s’take thish.” And Algernon took a bill from his pocket and tossed it at his valet. For a moment he sat quietly as if in a profound study, and then another idea struck him. “Shay you schrimp! Whash shtaring t’me like owl for?” he said, addressing the valet. “Gesh bishy on ’phone, tell booshlegger-dog shend me ’nozzer case quick. S’tell him I got awfu’ thirst.” “Yes, sir! As you say, sir,” replied the valet with alacrity. “But, begging your pardon, sir, the gentleman did promise to send another case yesterday; and, begging your pardon, sir, I believe he would have done so, if the federal officers had not raided him and put him in jail.” For a moment Algernon stared at his valet in a speechless rage that partly sobered him. Then the words came in a torrent of choice but incoherent invective. “Whazzat!” he cried. “Thosh--curs gesh my booshlegger! I gesh them quick!” He paused a second for breath, eyeing his valet the while with maudlin profundity, and then he continued: “Shay you monkey-face’ weptile, whash shtaring me for?” he exploded. “Gesh bishy! Gesh bishy on ’phone. Use p’vate code. Tell nash’nal schief t’ call hish dogs of my booshlegger a’ once. Tell him I get his scalp shure. Tell him thish Alg’non Shid’ey Shaint Shons’one. Y’un’erstan’? Alg’non Shid’ey Shain’ Shons’one!”