"
"The coffee-room is for gentlemen staying in the house," said the waiter.
The stranger took his feet from the fender, and rising slowly, walked
toward him. He was a short man and thin, but there was something so
menacing in his attitude, and something so fearsome in his stony brown
eyes, that the other, despite his disgust for ill-dressed people, moved
back uneasily.
"Brandy and water, hot," repeated the stranger; "and plenty of it. D'ye
hear?"
The man turned slowly to depart.
"Stop!" said the other, imperiously. "What's the name of the landlord
here?"
"Mullet," said the fellow, sulkily.
"Send him to me," said the other, resuming his seat; "and hark you, my
friend, more civility, or 'twill be the worse for you."
He stirred the log on the fire with his foot until a shower of sparks
whirled up the chimney. The door opened, and the landlord, with the
waiter behind him, entered the room, but he still gazed placidly at the
glowing embers.
"What do you want?" demanded the landlord, in a deep voice.
The stranger turned a little weazened yellow face and grinned at him
familiarly.
"Send that fat rascal of yours away," he said, slowly.
The landlord started at his voice and eyed him closely; then he signed to
the man to withdraw, and closing the door behind him, stood silently
watching his visitor.
"You didn't expect to see me, Rogers," said the latter.
"My name's Mullet," said the other, sternly.
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