"Fernando, me boy, it's a divil's own mess ye are makin' of this! Wake
up and get out!"

He roused himself and looked about. The room they were in was a small
apartment off the great saloon, and through the half-open folding-door,
he could see that the festivities still continued. The music and gay
forms of dancers reminded him where he was.

"Fernando, we've played this game jist as long as we can, successfully;
we had better go."

"I am ready," and Fernando got up and started diagonally across the
room, stepping with his feet very wide apart. The pretended Lord Kildee
took his arm, and they got to the door, where Fernando missed his
footing and went tumbling down the steps in a very undignified manner.
His lordship, Kildee, having imbibed rather freely himself, kept him
company, and for a few seconds they remained at the bottom of the
flight, dividing their time between studying astronomy and the laws of
gravitation.

Fernando had badly smashed the captain's chapeau and one fine plume was
gone. They had not gone far before they ran upon a watchman, who
threatened to run them in; but the police of those days were as
susceptible to a bribe as they are to-day, and after donating liberally
to the cause of justice and protection, they were taken to their rooms
instead of the calaboose.

Young Stevens had no definite recollection of how he ever got to bed;
but he awoke next morning with a wretched headache and found himself in