of the afternoon sat weatherbound,
hearkening to the sonorous deluge. For two hours I talked of indifferent
matters, laboriously feeding the conversation; for two hours my mind was
quite made up to do my duty instantly--and at each particular instant I
postponed it till the next. To screw up my faltering courage, I
called at dinner for some sparkling wine. It proved when it came to be
detestable; I could not put it to my lips; and Bellairs, who had as much
palate as a weevil, was left to finish it himself. Doubtless the wine
flushed him; doubtless he may have observed my embarrassment of the
afternoon; doubtless he was conscious that we were approaching a crisis,
and that that evening, if I did not join with him, I must declare myself
an open enemy. At least he fled. Dinner was done; this was the time
when I had bound myself to break my silence; no more delays were to be
allowed, no more excuses received. I went upstairs after some tobacco;
which I felt to be a mere necessity in the circumstances; and when I
returned, the man was gone. The waiter told me he had left the house.

The rain still plumped, like a vast shower-bath, over the deserted town.
The night was dark and windless: the street lit glimmeringly from end
to end, lamps, house windows, and the reflections in the rain-pools all
contributing. From a public-house on the other side of the way, I heard
a harp twang and a doleful voice upraised in the "Larboard Watch,"
"The Anchor's Weighed," and other naval ditties. Where had my Shyster
wandered? In all likelihood to that lyrical tavern; there was no choice
of diversion; in comparison with Stallbridge-Minster on a rainy night, a
sheepfold would seem gay.

Again I passed in review the points of my interview, on which I was
always constantly resolved so long as my adversary was absent from the
scene: and again they struck me as inadequate. From this dispiriting
exercise I turned to the native amusements of the inn coffee-room, and
studied for some time the mezzotints that frowned upon the wall. The
railway guide, after showing me how soon I could leave Stallbridge
and how quickly I could reach Paris, failed to hold my attention. An
illustrated advertisement book of hotels brought me very low indeed;
and when it came to the local paper, I could have wept. At this point, I
found a passing solace in a copy of Whittaker's Almanac, and obtained in
fifty minutes more information than I have yet been able to use.

Then