The image, as a whole, seemed to Sturk to fill in the outlines of a
recollection, which yet was _not_ a recollection. He could not seize it;
it was a decidedly unpleasant impression of having seen him before, but
where he could not bring to mind. 'He got me into some confounded
trouble some time or other,' thought Sturk, in his uneasy dream; 'the
sight of him is like a thump in my stomach. Was he the sheriff's
deputy at Chester, when that rascally Jew-tailor followed me?
Dangerfield--Dangerfield--Dangerfield--no; or could it be that row at
Taunton? or the custom-house officer--let me see--1751; no, he was a
taller man--yes, I remember him; it is _not_ he. Or was he at Dick
Luscome's duel?' and he lay awake half the night thinking of him; for he
was not only a puzzle, but there was a sort of suspicion of danger and
he knew not what, throbbing in his soul whenever his reverie conjured up
that impenetrable, white scoffing face.
CHAPTER XIX.
IN WHICH THE GENTLEMEN FOLLOW THE LADIES.
Having had as much claret as they cared for, the gentlemen fluttered
gaily into the drawing-room, and Puddock, who made up to Miss Gertrude,
and had just started afresh, and in a rather more sentimental vein, was
a good deal scandalised, and put out by the general's reciting with
jolly emphasis, and calling thereto his daughter's special attention,
his receipt for 'surprising a weaver,' which he embellished with two or
three burlesque improvements of his own, which Puddock, amidst his
blushes and confusion, allowed to pass without a protest.
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