English essays -- 19th century; Great Britain -- Social life and customs; London (England) -- Description and travel
Tap, tap, tap. There was here quite a lively little treble knock; and
when the old man said, “But I loved thee better than all the world,
Eliza,” the affirmative signal was briskly repeated.
And this I declare UPON MY HONOR. There was, I have said, a bottle of
port-wine before us--I should say a decanter. That decanter was LIFTED
up, and out of it into our respective glasses two bumpers of wine were
poured. I appeal to Mr. Hart, the landlord--I appeal to James, the
respectful and intelligent waiter, if this statement is not true? And
when we had finished that magnum, and I said--for I did not now in the
least doubt of her presence--“Dear gr-nny, may we have another magnum?”
the table DISTINCTLY rapped “No.”
“Now, my good sir,” Mr. Pinto said, who really began to be affected
by the wine, “you understand the interest I have taken in you. I loved
Eliza ----” (of course I don't mention family names). “I knew you had
that box which belonged to her--I will give you what you like for that
box. Name your price at once, and I pay you on the spot.”
“Why, when we came out, you said you had not sixpence in your pocket.”
“Bah! give you anything you like--fifty--a hundred--a tausend pound.”
“Come, come,” said I, “the gold of the box may be worth nine guineas,
and the facon we will put at six more.”
“One tausend guineas!” he screeched. “One tausend and fifty pound,
dere!” and he sank back in his chair--no, by the way, on his bench, for
he was sitting with his back to one of the partitions of the boxes, as I
dare say James remembers.
“DON'T go on in this way,” I continued, rather weakly, for I did not
know whether I was in a dream. “If you offer me a thousand guineas for
this box I MUST take it. Mustn't I, dear gr-nny?”
The table most distinctly said, “Yes;” and putting out his claws to
seize the box, Mr. Pinto plunged his hooked nose into it, and eagerly
inhaled some of my 47 with a dash of Hardman.
“But stay, you old harpy!” I exclaimed, being now in a sort of rage, and
quite familiar with him. “Where is the money? Where is the check?”
“James, a piece of note-paper and a receipt stamp!”
“This is all mighty well, sir,” I said, “but I don't know you; I never
saw you before. I will trouble you to hand me that box back again, or
give me a check with some known signature.”
“Whose? Ha, Ha, HA!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account