The man
carelessly seated himself at a table that stood in the centre of the
room, threw the hat he had declined yielding to the negro on the
floor beside him, rested the elbow of his left arm on the table, and
his head in his hand, as with the fingers of his right hand did he
fret the long silvery beard that bedecked his chin, and contemplate
with eager gaze the scene around him. "Yea, the man-seller hath,
with his spoils of greed, gotten him a gorgeous mansion; even he
liveth like a prince, his head resteth more in peace, and because he
hath great wealth of crime men seek to honour him. The rich criminal
hath few to fear; but hard is the fate of him who hath not the
wherewith to be aught but a poor one!" he muttered to himself, as
the door opened, and the well-rounded figure of Graspum whisked into
the room. The negro bowed politely, and closed the door after him,
as the stranger's eye flashed upon his old acquaintance, who,
bedecked somewhat extravagantly, and with a forced smile on his
subtle countenance, advanced rubbing his hands one over the other,
making several methodical bows, to which the stranger rose, as he
said, "Most happy am I to see you, Major! Major Blake, I believe, I
have the pleasure of receiving?" Here the stranger interpolated by
saying his name was not Blake, but Blank: the other apologised, said
he was just entertaining a small but very select circle of friends;
nevertheless, always chose to follow the maxim of "business before
pleasure.
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