Forthwith Barnabas climbs down, and edging his way through the throng,
presently finds Peterby at his elbow.
"Breakfast, sir?"
"Bed, Peterby."
"Very good--this way, sir."
Thereafter, though he scarcely knows how, he finds himself following
a trim-footed damsel, who, having shown him up a winding stair, worn
by the tread of countless travellers, brings him to a smallish,
dullish chamber, opening upon the lower gallery. Hereupon Barnabas
bids her "good night," but, blinking in the sunlight, gravely
changes it to "good morning." The trim-footed maid smiles, curtsies,
and vanishes, closing the door behind her.
Now upon the wall of the chamber, facing the bed, hangs the picture
of a gentleman in a military habit with an uncomfortably high stock.
He is an eagle-nosed gentleman with black whiskers, and a pair of
remarkably round wide-awake eyes, which stare at Barnabas as much as
to say--
"And who the devil are you, sir?"
Below him his name and titles are set forth fully and with many
flourishes, thus--
LIEUTENANT-GENERAL THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE EARL OF POMFROY,
K.G., K.T.S., etc., etc.
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