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Updated: May 12, 2025
The coast would be clear. Why, it was like finding the money. Besides, he reflected, as he worked his way through the bottle of Mumm's which he had had the forethought to abstract from the supper-table as a nerve-steadier, it wasn't really stealing. Dash it all, the man had given him the money! It was his own!
Six young men in CROSS PATCH'S library growing more and more cheery under the influence of Mumm's Extra Dry, set surreptitiously in cold pails by the bookcases. THE FIRST YOUNG MAN: By golly! Believe me, in my next book I'm going to do a wedding scene that'll knock 'em cold! THE SECOND YOUNG MAN: Met a debutante th'other day said she thought your book was powerful.
It was no more like the article commonly called whisky than Mumm's extra dry is like the pink lemonade of circus time. It had an oily appearance, an aromatic flavor, and the lawyer averred that there was not a headache in a barrel of it, though he was the only one who ever had an opportunity to test the truth of the statement and there is no doubt that he knew.
A few deft suggestions from one of them, however, put him in the way of a very good supper; and with a pint of Mumm's to wash it down, and a cigarette to top off with, Checkers, for it was he, began to feel that things might have been a bit worse after all.
Leaving him to discuss the point with Charteris, Spennie slipped quietly away. The delay, however, had had the effect of counteracting the uplifting effects of the Mumm's. The British Lion required a fresh fillip. He went to his room to administer it. By the time he emerged, he was feeling just right for the task in hand.
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