“Mr. Alpheas P. Quorn” was the name printed on the card of the visitor just announced, and I had scarcely cast my eye upon it when the man came in. He was a prodigiously fat man, with a pigeon breast, and a neck so short that his tufted chin was set low down between his high shoulders. He was dressed in actual burlesque of the fashion then prevailing; but, spruce as he was, he nursed undisguisedly a huge quid of tobacco in one clean-shaven cheek, and his hands, which were covered with rings of no great apparent value, were very dirty, and the nails uncared for. He bowed with a great flourish of politeness, spat copiously in the fire, and bade the count good-day in a thin and shrill-pitched voice, so out of keeping with his monstrous size that I had to cough and turn away to disguise a laugh. “My respects, count,” said Mr. Quorn, “my respects and compliments. I presoom, sir, you have heard the noos from the European Continent.” “I am in pretty constant receipt of news,” the count responded, with a swift glance in my direction; “but I do not know that it is yet common property.” “Wal,” said Mr. Quorn, “I'm inclined to think it is. But my folks are pretty considerably damn smart, and so, I guess, are yours.” He paused, looked hard at me, and turned his quid reflectively. “This gentleman--?” he said, interrogatively. “This gentleman,” the count responded, “is in full possession of my confidence. This is Mr. Quorn, Captain Fyffe. I was telling Captain Fyffe at the moment of your arrival,” he continued, “the nature of our business. I shall rely upon his judgment of the goods you have for sale.” “That's all right,” said Mr. Quorn. “I've got the real thing to sell, and I want a man as knows the real thing to see it before it's bought. Then you're satisfied and I'm satisfied. If I ain't mistaken now, Captain Fyffe's the man that hooked you out of that blasted Austrian dungeon.” “It is to Captain Fyffe,” the count answered, “that I owe my liberty.” “Then you owe him a lot,” retorted Mr. Quorn. “There's nothing sweeter on the face of the earth, and I presoom, sir, that you know it. I am a foe to slavery, gentlemen, everywhere and always. In the sacred cause of freedom I have been tarred and feathered and rode upon a rail. In comparison with twenty years in Austrian hands that ain't a lot, but it was more than I bargained for, and as much as I wanted. In the sacred cause of freedom, gentlemen, I'm willing to sacrifice even a pecuniary consideration. I could do a trade with Austria that would increase my profits by fifty per cent. But I'm all for freedom, and you get first offer.” “What is your news from the Continent, Mr. Quorn?” inquired the count. Mr. Quorn looked about him for a convenient spot, selected the fireplace, spat again, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and winked with a slow deliberation.