‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. He opened the drawer of the writing table. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. She peered into the darkness. She winced when first she heard the preparation-room door open and Capes came down the laboratory; but when at last he reached her she was self-possessed.
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