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Updated: May 18, 2025
"I beg your pardon?" the Commandant stammered, his eyes riveted on the stone. Mr. Fossel picked the specimen up, and rubbed it gently with his sleeve. "Now, that's a queer thing, eh? My brother-in-law sent it to me last week, and I've been using it for a paper-weight, not being a scientific man. But just you look into it.
"And we had best go with them, my dear," suggested Miss Gabriel to Mrs. Pope. Mrs. Fossel begged them to wait and keep her company until the gentlemen returned. "It is impossible," she urged as an inducement, "that Selina can go on making this noise forever." But Miss Gabriel had taken her decision, and from a decision Miss Gabriel was not easily turned.
"Why, Fossell's. Good Lord! didn't you know?" "My dear Sir Cæsar " Mr. Fossel stepped forward solicitously. "Eh? So it is.... Good evening, Mr. Fossell! That picture of the Waterloo Banquet seemed familiar, somehow." The Lord Proprietor nodded towards a framed engraving on the wall. "Yes, to be sure and Landseer's 'Twa Dogs. But this is worse than the Arabian Nights!
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