"Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. Where is Sir Rowland?" "In the library, your ladyship. He turned in at the club. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg. She found herself struggling with a storm of tears. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. S. A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head.
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