"I say, George, what a watch!" cried Saul. "You are going it." "Going it be hanged! That's the watch I had made in New York and sent over for a present to the old man, and he never used it, but saved it up for me. I only got it the other day, after all the confounded legal business was at an end. I seemed to be kept out of my rights till all that was done. Now come and let's get the whiskey." He led the way out into the hall, and through a swing door to the top of a flight of steps, at the bottom of which, in a recess, was an ordinary door of dark oak. This he unlocked, and threw back to admit the pair to a square entry, beyond which was another door, of iron, painted stone colour, and this rattled and creaked as it was unlocked and pushed back against the wall. "There! Something like cellars, eh? Hold up the light." Saul obeyed, and as the damp odour of sawdust fell upon his sense of smell, he saw that he had, right and left, bin after bin, formed in brickwork, whitewashed, and all nearly full of bottles, over each bin being the kind and age of the wine in black letters upon a white earthenware label. "Why, I had no conception that you had such a cellar, old fellow." "S'pose not. It isn't everybody who has. Needn't stint, eh? Cellar after cellar, all through beneath the house." "But not all stocked?" "Every one, and with the best of wine. Here we are." He stopped before a bin, and took down a bottle of whiskey. "Don't want to see any more I suppose?" "Oh yes, I do. Let's see it all." "See it and taste too if you like. What shall it be?" "Nothing," said Saul grimly, as he looked intently about him. "I shall have another drop of that whiskey when we get upstairs, and then go home." "Good boy," was the bantering remark. "Capital whiskey, though. Like milk. You should taste some of the stuff they sell us out in the West. Paraffin is honey to it!" "No wish to try it, my dear sir," said Saul, as he followed his host from cellar to cellar, the feeble light of the candle casting curious shadows on the damp, whitewashed walls, and glinting from the round bottle ends which protruded from their sawdust beds. "I'm astounded," said Saul, as they went on and on. "I'd no idea the old man had such a cellar of wine. He scarcely ever touched anything but a liqueur of brandy." "Saving it all up for me, I suppose," said the other laughingly. "Bring many people down here?" "Here? Nobody. You're the first who has been down. Place had been sealed up for years. Look at that?" They were in the farthest cellar now, a small, low-arched, and groined place, with bins on two sides, the other being blank brick wall, whitewashed. "Well, what is there to look at?" "Wait till we get upstairs and I'll show you. Had enough of it?" "Yes," said Saul, as he curiously scanned the liquid wealth about him, and noticed the various catacomb-like openings in which the rich amber, topaz, and ruby wine was stored.