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Updated: June 19, 2025
But one day he sent Jacob for a powder-flask which he had left on his dressing- table, having forgotten, through inadvertence, to lock his cupboard door or remove a spirit-bottle from his table. Jacob remained staring at the bottle, and then at the open hamper in the closet, as if fascinated by the gaze of some deadly serpent.
Woodward, who began to find that she agreed with Gertrude, that early habits on the part of her uncle would be a family blessing. 'But perhaps you'll take something before you go? 'Well, I don't mind if I do take a thimbleful of rum-and-water. So the odious spirit-bottle was again brought into the drawing- room. 'Did you call at the Admiralty, sir, as you came through town? said Alaric.
Well, the long and short of it was just this. He managed to keep the spirit-bottle full, and got me jolly well drunk one night; and then I've no doubt I told him all he wanted to know about my gold, for I know no more nor the man in the moon what I said to him. I asked him next day what I'd been talking about; and he said I was very close, and wouldn't let out anything.
As his fingers were about to reach for the spirit-bottle in the house of the Notary, and he had, for the first time in his life, made an appeal for help, a woman's voice had said, "It is good to live, isn't it?" and his hand was stayed. A woman's look had stilled the strife. Never before in his life had he relied on a moral or a spiritual impulse in him.
"I got the beer for you on purpose: knew you'd want it after last night." And the Colonel began to talk about his adventures of the preceding evening. "I cannot help myself," the Colonel said, beating his head with his big hand. "I'm a madman when I get the liquor on board me; and ain't fit to be trusted with a spirit-bottle.
The spirit-bottle was never allowed to be empty or out of the way; Juniper could produce it at a moment's notice. He took care to do so with special dexterity whenever he could engage his master in a game of cards. Juniper was an accomplished gambler; he had often played with his young master when they were out alone on fishing or shooting expeditions at Greymoor Park.
A long wicker chair was set in one angle, facing them, in such a position that the movement of the sun would not affect the delightful shade in which the chair stood. A small table stood beside it, with the Times newspaper tumbled on to it, a box of cigars, a spirit-bottle of iridescent glass, a syphon, and a tall tumbler in which a little ice lay crumbled at the bottom.
As Garrison, a contemptuous smile on his face, turned away, and started to draw a handkerchief from his hip pocket, the New Englander, thinking a revolver was on its way, scrambled to his feet, wildly seized the heavy spirit-bottle, and let fly at Garrison's head. There was whisky, muscle, sinew, and fear behind the shot.
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