“Too much ... drink,” he said thickly. “Not used ... wine.” He made a feeble attempt to rise, failed, and then suddenly resigned himself. Like Jake, who was already snoring, he made on the table a pillow of his arms, and lowered his head to it. In a moment both the chairmen were soundly asleep. Colonel Holles softly pushed back his stool, and rose. A moment he stood considering whether he should recover the two or three gold pieces which he was perfectly aware the rogues had filched from him. In the end he concluded that this would be an unnecessary additional cruelty. He lurched out of the corner, and the hostess hearing him move came forward. He took her by the arm with one hand, whilst with the other, to her amazement, he pressed a second gold piece into her palm. He closed one eye solemnly, and pointed to the sleeping twain. “Very good fellows ... friends o’ mine,” he informed her. “Very drunk. Not used ... wine. Lerrem sleep in peace.” She smirked, clutching that second precious piece. “Indeed, your honour, they may sleep and welcome. Ye’ve paid for their lodgings.” Holles considered her critically. “Goo’ woman. Ye’re a goo’ woman.” He considered her further. “Handsome woman! Lerrem sleep in peace. Gobbless you.” She thought a kiss was coming. But he disappointed her. He loosed her arm, reeled away a little, swung round, and lurched out of the place and off down the street. Having gone some little way, he halted unsteadily and looked back. He was not observed. Having assured himself of this, he resumed his way, and it is noteworthy that he no longer staggered. His step was now brisk and certain. He flung something from him as he went, and there was a faint tinkle of shivering glass. It was the phial that had contained the powerful narcotic which he had added to his guests’ wine whilst they were grovelling for the money he had spilled. “Animals!” he said contemptuously, and upon that dismissed them from his mind. The hour of seven was striking from St. Clement’s Danes as he passed the back door of the playhouse and the untended chair that waited there for Miss Farquharson. Farther down the narrow street a couple of men were lounging who at a little distance might have been mistaken for the very chairmen he had left slumbering in the alehouse. Their plain liveries at least were very similar, and they were covered with broad round hats identical with those of Miss Farquharson’s bearers, worn at an angle that left their faces scarcely visible. Sauntering casually, Colonel Holles came up with them. The street thereabouts was practically untenanted. “Is all well?” he asked them. “The people have quitted the theatre some ten minutes since,” one of them answered him in indifferent English. “To your places, then. You know your tale if there are any questions.”