" "Here is the sum you bargained for," rejoined Trenchard, flinging a pocket-book on the table; "count it. So I asks the maid a few questions like, and it seems it ain’t Mister Charvill they’re going to visit again, but General Charvill. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived. ‘Thought it was downright wicked to keep you ignorant of your proper background. She hoped the lights would become hot enough to melt her into the floor. Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay; I'll summon the landlord—I'll call for the Bowl, And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul! Whatever may hap, I'll taste of the tap, To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap! For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of St.
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