Page:Braddon--The Trail of the Serpent.djvu/175

Rh "It's precious one" looked from the charmer at his side to Richard, with rather an apologetic shrug.

"The sex is weak," he said, "conqueror of Agincourt—I beg pardon, Waterloo. The sex is weak: it is a fact established alike by medical science and political economy. Poor thing! she loves me."

The lady, for the first time, became aware of the presence of Richard. She dropped a very low curtesy, in the performance of which one of the green boots described a complete circle, and said,

"From Gloucestershire, sir?" interrogatively.

"The Emperor Napoleon Buonaparte," said the proprietor of the German Ocean. "My dear, you ought to know him."

"The Emperor Nap-o-le-on Bu-o-na-parte," she said very slowly, checking off the syllables on her fingers, "and from Gloucestershire? How gratifying! All our great men come from Gloucestershire. It is a well-known fact—from Gloucestershire? Muffins were invented in Gloucestershire by Alfred the Great. Did you know our dear Alfred? You are perhaps too young—a great loss, my dear sir, a great loss; conglomerated essence of toothache on the cerebral nerves took him off in fourteen days, three weeks, and one month. We tried everything, from dandelions"—(her eyes wandered as if searching the grounds for information as to what they had tried)—from dandelions to chevaux-de-frise—"

She stopped abruptly, staring Richard full in the face, as if she expected him to say something; but as he said nothing, she became suddenly interested in the contemplation of the green boots, looking first at one and then at the other, as if revolving in her mind the probability of their wanting mending.

Presently she looked up, and said with great solemnity—

"Do you know the muffin-man?"

Richard shook his head.

"He lives in Drury Lane," she added, looking at him rather sternly, as much as to say, "Come, no nonsense! you know him well enough!"

"No," said Richard, "I don't remember having met him."

"There are seventy-nine of us who know the muffin-man in this establishment, sir—seventy-nine; and do you dare to stand there and tell me that you"

"I assure you, madam, I have not the honour of his acquaintance."

"Not know the muffin-man!—you don't know the muffin-man! Why, you contemptible stuck-up jackanapes"

What the lady might have gone on to say, it would be difficult to guess. She was not celebrated for the refinement of her vocabulary when much provoked; but at this moment a great stout man, one of the keepers, came up, and cried out—