Silently and patiently did the doctor bear all this, and all the
handings of negus, and watching for glasses, and darting for
biscuits, and coquetting, that ensued; but, a few seconds after the
stranger had disappeared to lead Mrs. Budger to her carriage, he
darted swiftly from the room with every particle of his hitherto-
bottled-up indignation effervescing, from all parts of his countenance,
in a perspiration of passion.
The stranger was returning, and Mr. Tupman was beside him.
He spoke in a low tone, and laughed. The little doctor thirsted
for his life. He was exulting. He had triumphed.
'Sir!' said the doctor, in an awful voice, producing a card, and
retiring into an angle of the passage, 'my name is Slammer,
Doctor Slammer, sir--97th Regiment--Chatham Barracks--my
card, Sir, my card.' He would have added more, but his indignation
choked him.
'Ah!' replied the stranger coolly, 'Slammer--much obliged--
polite attention--not ill now, Slammer--but when I am--knock
you up.'
'You--you're a shuffler, sir,' gasped the furious doctor, 'a
poltroon--a coward--a liar--a--a--will nothing induce you to
give me your card, sir!'
'Oh! I see,' said the stranger, half aside, 'negus too strong here
--liberal landlord--very foolish--very--lemonade much better
--hot rooms--elderly gentlemen--suffer for it in the morning--
cruel--cruel;' and he moved on a step or two.
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