This is my first jaunt into this
part of New England. Most attractive walking, my dear fellow.
Wonderful scenery, splendid air--" "Deliver me from the hoi-polloi,"
said Mr. Rushcroft, at his ease once more. "I may also add, deliver me
from walking. I'm damned if I can see anything in it. What will you
have to drink, old chap?"
He turned toward the broad aperture which served as a passageway in
the wall for drinks leaving the hands of a fat bartender beyond to
fall into the clutches of thirsty customers in the tap-room. There was
no outstanding bar. A time-polished shelf, as old as the house itself,
provided the afore-said bartender with a place on which to spread his
elbows while not actively engaged in advancing mugs and bottles from
more remote resting-places at his back.
"Everything comes through 'the hole in the wall,'" explained
Rushcroft, wrinkling his face into a smile.
He unceremoniously turned his back on the audience of a moment before,
and pounded smartly on the shelf, notwithstanding the fact that the
bartender was less than a yard away and facing him expectantly. "What
ho! Give ear, professor. Ye gods, what a night! Devil-brewed
pandemonium--I beg pardon?"
"I was just about to ask what you will have," said Barnes, lining up
beside him with Mr.
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