A regular stand-up fight, by Jupiter, between death and the
doctor!--and the doctor has won! Give me the reward of merit. Pass the
bottle."
He took up the decanter, and looked at it.
"Why, what have you been about?" he asked. "I made up my mind that I
should want the key of the cellar when I came back, and I don't believe
you have drunk a drop in my absence. What does it mean?"
"It means that I am not worthy of your sherry," Mountjoy answered. "The
Spanish wines are too strong for my weak digestion."
Mr. Vimpany burst into one of his explosions of laughter. "You miss the
landlady's vinegar--eh?"
"Yes, I do! Wait a minute, doctor; I have a word to say on my
side--and, like you, I mean what I say. The landlady's vinegar is some
of the finest Chateau Margaux I have ever met with--thrown away on
ignorant people who are quite unworthy of it."
The doctor's natural insolence showed itself. "You have bought this
wonderful wine, of course?" he said satirically.
"That," Mountjoy answered, "is just what I have done."
For once in his life, Mr. Vimpany's self-sufficient readiness of speech
failed him. He stared at his guest in dumb amazement. On this occasion,
Mountjoy improved the opportunity to good purpose.
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