In
prime condition! And drawing a first whiff, he said:
"Open that bottle of the old brandy in the sideboard."
"Brandy, sir? I really daren't, sir."
"Are you my servant or not?"
"Yes, sir, but---"
A minute of silence, then the man went hastily to the sideboard, took
out the bottle, and drew the cork. The tide of crimson in the old man's
face had frightened him.
"Leave it there."
The unfortunate valet placed the bottle on the little table. 'I'll have
to tell her,' he thought; 'but if I take away the port decanter and the
glass, it won't look so bad.' And, carrying them, he left the room.
Slowly the old man drank his coffee, and the liqueur of brandy. The
whole gamut! And watching his cigar-smoke wreathing blue in the orange
glow, he smiled. The last night to call his soul his own, the last night
of his independence. Send in his resignations to-morrow--not wait to be
kicked off! Not give that fellow a chance!
A voice which seemed to come from far off, said:
"Father! You're drinking brandy! How can you--you know it's simple
poison to you!" A figure in white, scarcely actual, loomed up close. He
took the bottle to fill up his liqueur glass, in defiance; but a hand
in a long white glove, with another dangling from its wrist, pulled it
away, shook it at him, and replaced it in the sideboard.
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