d I.

"'But I won't take it I 'll taste nothing more,' said he, with a marked
emphasis. 'I 'll take nothing but what Loo gives me,' muttered he, below
his breath. And we all exchanged significant looks with each other.

"'This will never do,' murmured Wake, in a low voice. 'Say
something--tell a story--but let us keep moving.'

"And Collins began some narrative of his early experiences on the Turf.
The story, like all such, was the old burden of knave and dupe,--the man
who trusted and the man who cheated. None of us paid much attention to
the details, but drank away at our wine, and sent the decanters briskly
round, when suddenly, at the mention of a horse being found dead in his
stall on the morning he was to have run, Hawke broke in with 'Nobbled!
Just like me!'

"Though the words were uttered in a sort of revery, and with a bent-down
head, we all were struck dumb, and gazed ruefully at each other.
'Where's Towers all this time?' said Collins to me, in a whisper. I
looked at my watch, and saw that it was forty-four minutes since he left
the room. I almost started up from my seat with terror, as I thought
what this long absence might portend. Had he actually gone off, leaving
us all to the perils that were surrounding us? Was it that he had gone
to betray us to the law? I could not speak from fear when the door
opened, and he came in and sat down in his place. Though endeavoring to
seem easy and unconcerned, I could mark that he wore an air of triumph
and success that he could not subdue.

"'Here comes the brew,' said he, as the servant brought in a large
smoking bowl of fragrant mixture.

"'I 'll not touch it!' said Hawke, with a resolute tone that startled
us.

"'What! after giving me more than half an hour's trouble in preparing
it,' said Towers. 'Come, old fellow, that is not gracious.'

"'Drink it yourselves!' said Hawke, sulkily.

"'So we will, after we have finished this Burgundy,' said Towers. 'But,
meanwhile, what will _you_ have? It's poor fun to sit herewith an empty
glass.' And he filled him out a goblet of the milk-punch and placed it
before him. 'Here's to the yellow jacket with black sleeves,' said he,
lifting his glass; 'and may we see him the first "round the corner."'

"'First "round the corner!"' chorused the rest of us. And Hawke,
catching up the spirit of the toast, seized his glass and drank it off.

"'Iknew he 'd drink his own colors if he had one leg in the grave!'
said Towers.