' But it was a tall
fattish stranger, rather flashily dressed, but a little soiled, with a
black wig, and a rollicking red face, showing a good deal of chin and
jaw.
O'Flaherty made his grandest bow, quite forgetting the exposure at the
top of his head; and Puddock stood rather shocked, with the candle in
one hand and O'Flaherty's scalp in the other.
'You come, Sir, I presume, from Mr. Nutter,' said O'Flaherty, with lofty
courtesy. This, Sir, is my friend, Lieutenant Puddock of the Royal Irish
Artillery, who does me the honour to support me with his advice and--'
As he moved his hand towards Puddock, he saw his scalp dangling between
that gentleman's finger and thumb, and became suddenly mute. He clapped
his hand upon his bare skull, and made an agitated pluck at that
article, but missed, and disappeared, with an imprecation in Irish,
behind the bed curtains.
'If you will be so obliging, Sir, as to precede me into that room,'
lisped Puddock, with grave dignity, and waving O'Flaherty's scalp
slightly towards the door--for Puddock never stooped to hide anything,
and being a gentleman, pure and simple, was not ashamed or afraid to
avow his deeds, words, and situations; 'I shall do myself the honour to
follow.
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