" He had now gained the high road. “Don’t think so,” Drummond answered. "O'ons! Captain," cried Blueskin, as he grumblingly obeyed the command; "if you've left off business yourself, you needn't interfere with other people. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself.
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