"How are you, sir?" said I, rising awkwardly to my feet; "nice
night."

"Get off my tail," answered the elderly party, without moving a
muscle.

"My eccentric friend," rejoined I, mockingly, "may I be permitted to
inquire your street and number?"

"Certainly," he replied, "No. 1, Marle Place, Asphalt Avenue,
Hades."

"The devil!" sneered I.

"Exactly," said he; "oblige me by getting off my tail."

I was a little staggered, and by way of rallying my somewhat dazed
faculties, offered a cigar: "Smoke?"

"Thank you," said the singular old gentleman, putting it under his
coat; "after dinner. Drink?"

I was not exactly prepared for this, but did not know if it would be
safe to decline, and so putting the proffered flask to my lips
pretended to swig elaborately, keeping my mouth tightly closed the
while. "Good article," said I, returning it. He simply remarked,
"You're a fool," and emptied the bottle at a gulp.

"And now," resumed he, "you will confer a favour I shall highly
appreciate by removing your feet from my tail."