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Updated: May 28, 2025
The blood in his throbbing temples sang a dull, tuneless song. But presently he became aware of another kind of singing. It was a little hissing voice that came from the inside of the oak-and-silver cellaret. And it sang a song that the man who sat near had never heard before.
"I've lived with one or two of 'em, and, if I may say so, sir I know the breed!" "He knows ... the breed ..." repeated Saxham heavily. He asked another question, in the same thick, hesitating way, as he moved across the carpet to the oak-and-silver cellaret.
He found a bottle of champagne and the brandy-decanter, and a long tumbler, and knocked off the wired neck of the bottle against the chimneypiece, and crashed the foaming wine into the crystal, and filled up the glass with brandy, and tossed off the stinging, bubbling, hissing mixture, and laughed as he set the tumbler down. The thing inside the oak-and-silver cellaret laughed too.
Drink, I say, and you will be able to laugh at the One and the two...." The little hissing voice drove Saxham mad. He leaped up, frenzied, oversetting the chair. He tore open and threw wide the doors of the oak-and-silver cellaret, and sought in it with shaking hands.
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