tible good humour, "let us drink success to absent friends and confusion to our foes."
This seemed to meet the youth's views, for, without a word of comment, he drained his glass nearly to the bottom
"Ha! that's good. Nothin' like brandy and water on a hot day."
"Except brandy and water on a cold day, my dear," returned the Jew—for such he was; "there is not much to choose between them. Had you not better take off your bag? it incommodes you in so narrow a seat. Let me help—No?"
"You let alone my bag," growled Stumps angrily, with a sudden clutch at it.
"Waiter! bring a light. My cigar is out," said the Jew, affecting not to observe Stumps's tone or manner. "It is strange," he went on, "how, sometimes, you find a bad cigar—a very bad cigar—in the midst of good ones. Yours is going well, I think."
"Well enough," answered Stumps, taking another pull at the brandy and water.
The seedy man now launched out into a pleasant light discourse about Bombay and its ways, which highly interested his poor victim. He made no further allusion to the bag, Stumps's behaviour having betrayed all he required to know, namely, that its contents were valuable.
