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Updated: May 23, 2025
Knocks, and is answered by smart and austere-looking Domestic. I.P. Oh, just tell Mr. MUGSNAP I should like just one word more with him. Won't detain him a moment. Austere Domestic. Mr. MUGSNAP! And who's Mr. MUGSNAP, pray? Don't know any sech persing. I.P. Oh yes, he lives here. Met him, by appointment, only an hour ago. Hasn't he returned? I tell you there ain't no Mr. MUGSNAP lives here at all.
We'll step across to the Wine Shades yonder, and talk our business over together with a glass of sound port, my boy. Best glass of port in London, BUMPUS sells, and as an old Army Man I appreciate it. MUGSNAP wins upon his companion by his hearty style, and all difficulties in the way of "an early advance" are smoothed away in a highly satisfactory manner.
This person is perhaps a trifle shabby-genteel in attire, but genially pompous and semi-military in bearing. He makes as if to go, but stopping suddenly, stares at I.P., and addresses him. Ahem! I a beg pardon, I'm sure, but have you by any chance an appointment for 11 A.M. at this address, with a Mr. I.P. Why a yes, as a matter of fact, I have. Mr. Mugsnap. Quite so. And your name is SOFTSHELL?
Meanwhile the "couple o' guineas" leave his hands, and Mr. MUGSNAP leaves him, hopeful, and admiring. Very pleasant person, Mr. MUGSNAP. Quite a pleasure to deal with him. Sharks, indeed! How worthy people get misrepresented! By the way, though, there's one question I forgot to ask him. I'll just step back. Don't suppose he has gone yet.
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